Fifty Shades of Grey Steele
by wrenegade
Summary: Anastasia Steele, CEO of Steele Designs meets Christian Grey, CEO of Grey Enterprises at the Coping Together Benefit. What happens when two tortured souls find each other? Rated for language and content. Trigger warnings and lemons are throughout the story. Reposting all my 50 Shades stories back on here.
1. Chapter 1

I'm back! For those of you that still may have me on author alert for the Fifty Shades Fandom, I will be re-posting all of my Fifty Shades stories here again. I have decided to close my wordpress account and move everything back here. I also have opened another blog where I will be featuring my own original stories. You can find them at craftyrivers dot com. As of now only two chapters of one of my novels is available, but more will come.

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Chapter 1

Anastasia PoV

"Ana, you simply must come to this benefit," my mother begged. I knew she was affiliated with this charity because of me and my siblings, but I didn't want to look into the eyes of the other benefactors who knew my story. I didn't want their pity.

"Mom, you know how I feel about that," I told her. "Every one of them knows that you and Dad adopted us, what we were like before you did. I don't want to deal with their pity nor their curiosity."

"It won't be like that, dear," she replied. "It's a masquerade ball. No one will even know who you are! And there's a very select few people who know the circumstances of your adoption. The Greys don't even know much about it." Oh. This was news. And it changed things.

"Okay, Mom," I relented. "I'll be there." That gave me exactly three hours to find a dress a matching mask and get ready for the benefit. Perhaps Kate, my dear sister, would have thought ahead for me. I hated shopping. Mom was squealing in delight on the other end of the call. Once she calmed down, she said she'd meet us there.

"Kate!" I bellowed. "I need your help." I knew she had to be somewhere in this cavernous house. Being CEO at Steele Designs definitely had its benefits. This house, the staff, and the cars we all drove were only a few of them. My youngest sibling, Kate, was our top interior designer, and our brother Ethan, the middle child, our top architect. Those two coupled with my fierce business skills made us the number one remodeling and construction company in the Pacific Northwest. It was in essence, the family business. Neither of them wanted the responsibility of being the CEO, so they left that to me. That and the fact that I was the eldest of the three of us.

"I knew Mom would Shanghai you into coming tonight," she said, popping her head out of her studio. "Come, I've picked out a dress for you." I followed her through the studio and into her bedroom, which was attached. "Here, go try this on," she told me, handing me a black garment bag.

I shuffled into her en-suite and closed the door behind me. Despite our being sisters, I was still much too shy and modest to be okay with changing with the door open. Besides, she'd always get sad when she saw my scars, I didn't need to show her on purpose.

Once the dress was on, I turned around, appraising myself in the mirror. It was a floor length silvery blue satin dress with jeweled embellishments over the breasts. The satin kissed the floor swaying back and forth with each movement I made, and the blue sheen to it brought out the color of my eyes. It was beautiful. I turned around to see the back and gasped. "Kate! This dress is backless!" I hollered. I'd never ever worn a backless dress, and for good reason.

"I know, but it'll be dark most of the evening, and I have a silk wrap here for you, no one will notice your scars unless they touch you, which you never allow anyway." Her tone was sheepish. I forgave her instantly and she handed me the matching mask with a shy grin on her face.

I let her curl and style my hair, leaving it in soft ringlets down my back. She pinned back a few locks in the front, to keep it out of my face and helped me don the mask. I slid some bangles on my wrists to cover those scars in lieu of wearing gloves that would surely get dirty before the evening ended. Kate went back into her bedroom to put her own dress on. It was a jade green number with a scooping neckline and backless like mine. It matched her green eyes perfectly.

Out in the foyer, our brother Ethan was waiting, looking debonair in a black tuxedo. "Ladies, you look lovely." I looked at the two of them and wished I could have their looks. I was the black sheep of the family in more ways than one. Dark chocolate colored hair, blue eyes and deathly pale skin, while they were perfect blondes, with striking green eyes, and tan skin that stayed golden year round. We all had the same mother, but doubted that any of us shared the same biological father. I must have inherited my looks from whoever that man was.

Ethan kissed our cheeks, careful not to touch any part of my body but my face. He learned well over the years. Holding out an elbow for each of us, he escorted us out of the house, down the steps, and into the waiting car.

Reynolds, our driver and head of our security team, drove us to the Greys' house on the other side of town. Grace and Carrick Grey had three children, all of whom were adopted, much like our family. Only, from what I knew, their children weren't biologically related. Coping Together was the charity they created for children whose parents had afflictions with drugs and alcohol. At least one of their children came from a home like that, which triggered their desire to help others. This is where they met our parents.

Miranda Steele, our mother, became fast friends with Grace, and soon they became co-chairs for this charity, and now were having their third annual benefit to raise money for the cause. Kate and Ethan had attended in the past, but I was always conveniently away on a business trip. This year, I wasn't so lucky.

"I can't wait to see Elliot," Kate murmured. Oh yes, that's right. She had developed quite the crush on the Greys' son Elliot.

"You know his company is our biggest competitor," I whispered back. Elliot Grey owned a construction company that was very nearly as popular as ours. He specialized in ecologically friendly building, which was where we were trying to go, and unfortunately, he held a lot of the patents on materials that we wanted to get our hands on.

"Yes, I know. If he and I get together, we could merge Grey Construction and Steele Designs, Ana. Think of the possibilities!" She got all excited, going on and on about merging our companies together. That would entirely be my decision, and I was less than unenthusiastic about the idea.

Finally we arrived at the gates of the Grey home which was even more monumental than our own. Our parents lived in a penthouse apartment in downtown Seattle, while the three of us kids lived in my mansion. Kate and Ethan each made more than enough money to live in their own homes, but we liked being together. We were very close-knit, despite my inability to let them touch me ever. I couldn't even count how many times Kate wanted to hug me, but always hesitated, instead reaching for my hand. Perhaps someday I would be able to let her be closer.

A valet collected the car from Reynolds and he strolled off to where he would be posted for the evening. Kate and Ethan donned their masks and into the party we went. There were beautiful silk tents everywhere. Thin enough to see the stars through. It was still dusk, so the stars weren't quite visible yet. As we continued our stroll, we spotted our parents. They waved us over to come and meet the Greys.

"Ana, I'm so glad you came," my mother said, reaching her hand out to mine and squeezing it gently. I knew she wanted to embrace me and it broke my heart a little bit every time I saw the sadness in her eyes when she realized I'd never let her. "This is Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey," she introduced. "And her husband Carrick Grey."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," I said, shaking their hands. "You have a lovely home, Dr. Trevelyan," I added looking at the gorgeous monstrosity that stood behind them.

"Thank you, dear. And please, call me Grace," she replied. "Your dress is simply lovely; I do hope you'll join the dance auction." I didn't answer her question, but instead, smiled once more before making my way through the party. Kate said a short hello to the Greys before dragging me off to help her find Elliot.

"There he is!" she hissed at me, pointing across the dance floor to a rather burly young man. He was standing next to another man equally tall, but less broad. "I think that's his brother Christian next to him," she added.

"Wait, Christian Grey is from this family? _The_ Christian Grey?" I asked, astonished.

"Yes, of course. I've told you this, Ana," she retorted. I didn't remember her telling me that, but either way, it was very interesting information. Christian Grey was the CEO of Grey Enterprise Holdings. He had amassed an empire in the past six years that rivaled Microsoft. I had dreams of Steele Designs being that big, but we weren't there yet. "Come on, let's go say hi," she insisted. Kate was bound and determined to get me out of my shell. To get me to a point where I could stand to be within three feet of other people and possibly let someone touch me. I didn't see that ever happening, but she had other plans.

She dragged me across the dance floor where I promptly tripped on a puddle of spilled beverage and launched myself into the arms of the man standing next to Elliot. I froze in fear. Clamping down the blackened memories, I steeled myself and pushed myself away from the man. "Oh god, I'm so sorry," I said, suddenly mortified. I could feel my blush rising. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the man said, sounding slightly annoyed. Who wouldn't be? "Are you?"

"Yes, someone must have spilled a drink on the dance floor, and my shoes are apparently very slippery when wet," I replied. He and Elliot chuckled. Kate gaped at me as if I'd committed some heinous crime. Smoothing out my dress, I gazed up at the man who caught me and froze again. He had the most beautiful gray eyes I'd ever seen. Even behind the black mask, I could tell he was dangerously handsome. "I'm Anastasia Steele, not normally so clumsy," I greeted, holding out my hand.

"Oh, Miranda and Ray's daughter?" he asked, squeezing my hand gently. I nodded, smiling shyly, and trying to ignore the zing that went up my arm as soon as his hand touched mine. "I'm Christian Grey, Carrick and Grace's son. This is my brother Elliot." I looked to his right, somewhat reluctantly and shook hands with Elliot. Sparing a glance at my sister, Kate was gazing at Elliot like she was seeing the sun for the first time. I couldn't tell if he was equally interested in her. "I'll call someone over to clean up that spill, wouldn't want anyone else to fall, now would we?" I blushed at his joke.

Within moments, a young man arrived with supplies to clean up the mess. I still couldn't believe I tripped on a bloody puddle in front of Christian Grey. "So, Ms. Steele, what do you do?" he asked me.

"Ana please," I replied. "And I'm in interior design and architecture."

"Oh, would you be part of Steele Designs by any means?" he asked.

"Yes, that's my company."

"Oh, are you an interior designer or an architect?" he asked.

"Neither," I replied. "I meant it's _my_ company. I'm the CEO." His eyebrows shot above his mask and his mouth dropped open. Clearly our parents hadn't divulged much information about us to the Greys.

"I've um, heard great things about Steele Designs," he said. "You're up and coming in the eco-friendly department while also maintaining style and keeping with the times as far as what people want in their homes. I read that the other day in the paper, anyway."

"Yes, we're doing well. Your brother's company has us in the eco-friendly arena though," I replied, shooting a glance at Elliot who was listening intently. "Kate's designs are unparalleled though, and our brother Ethan is the head of the architecture department. They're making leaps and bounds in maximizing the strength and longevity of a structure while minimizing cost and amount of materials used."

"Kate, would you like a drink?" I heard Elliot ask my sister. She nodded enthusiastically and took his proffered elbow and followed him away from us. Effectively leaving me alone with the wealthiest and most successful man in all of Washington State.

"Would you like anything to drink, Anastasia?" Christian asked me.

"No thank you, I'm not a drinker," I replied.

"Not even a glass of champagne?" he asked.

"I might have a sip or two if there's a toast later, but otherwise, no. I don't indulge." _Please don't ask me why; please don't ask me why_ , I kept thinking.

"Fair enough," he replied, dropping the subject, thankfully. "Would you care for a stroll around the grounds? I'd be happy to give you a tour."

"Certainly, thank you," I replied. He held out his hand, which I took gratefully and he showed me the Grey Estate both inside and out.

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Christian PoV

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to not lash out at the clumsy woman who fell into my arms. She seemed just as shaken as me when we touched, though, and I quelled my anger. Apparently she'd slipped on a spilled drink and that's what launched her into my arms. If I couldn't see the alleged puddle and the smear of it that led right to me, then I might not have believed her. I called Gretchen over and told her to fetch someone to clean up the mess. She obliged immediately, blushing all the way back to the house.

The woman turned out to be none other than Anastasia Steele, CEO of Steele Designs. Her company was on the fast track to becoming the biggest name in home décor and design in the nation. My brother may have had the drop on her in the ecological department, but his designs were nowhere near as interesting as hers. Plus he outsourced all the architecture work to a different company, as well as the interior design. Miss Steele's company had it all together in one.

She kept a safe distance from me and didn't try to throw herself at me like so many women did. Well, she did quite literally throw herself at me, but it wasn't for the reasons that most women did. When I shook her hand, she was the first to pull away and clasp her hands back together, back inside her own bubble. I could tell the signs from a mile away. She was like me; she didn't like to be touched.

Her face was mostly obscured by the garish mask, but she had beautiful blue eyes, and full luscious lips. Her skin was peaches and cream, not a single freckle to flaw it. As she turned to look at the young man cleaning up the mess on the dance floor, I noticed she had a head of long chestnut hair. My very favorite shade. All I wanted was to reach out and caress it, running my fingers through the curly tresses. But I stowed my twitching fingers in my pocket and remained still.

I led her on a tour of the grounds, showing her the boat, the inside of the house, and introducing her to a few people I recognized, despite their masks. "Oh are you Christian's date?" Elena asked, as she greeted us. I glared at her. I did not have dates. She knew this. And she certainly knew I would _never_ bring one of my submissives with me to a family function.

"Um, no, he's just showing me around. I came with my family," Anastasia replied, pointing to her parents who were still standing with mine. "I'm Anastasia Steele."

"Oh! From Steele Designs! You designed my latest salon! I just loved the work your company did." Elena looked like she wanted to give Anastasia a hug, but the girl's stance gave off the opposite vibe.

"I'm so glad!" Anastasia replied. "I'll pass your compliments on to my siblings. They do most of the design work, I just oversee everything. A glorified nanny is really all I am most of the time," she joked. We nodded our farewells to Elena and headed back towards the party.

I noticed that Anastasia kept her silk shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders at all times. Other women left theirs with their husbands, dates, or draped over chairs. It wasn't a chilly evening. Her dress was backless, I could tell, and I wanted nothing more than to see the creamy expanse of skin, run my fingers along it.

This realization shocked me. I hardly knew this woman. Had no idea if she would even be interested in an arrangement with me, and there I was fantasizing about caressing her skin. And she didn't like to be touched. How would I ever make it work with a woman who hated touching the way I did?

 _You won't, that's how_. I knew it to be true. While I couldn't stand to be touched, I lived for the moments when I could touch my submissives. Feel their soft skin warm and turn pink from my hands and various implements.

"Ana! There you are!" her sister Kate called out, strolling across the lawn to meet us, my sister Mia in tow. "Come on, we're about to start the first dance auction." Kate grabbed Anastasia's free hand and tried to pull her along.

"Kate! Are you crazy? You know I can't do that!" Ana replied, her voice laced with fear and some other emotion.

"Can't means won't," Kate replied. "Come on, you're doing this. You need to and you know it." It seemed like Kate was referring to something specific, though I didn't know what. I had no idea why Anastasia was not into being touched, so dancing would prove difficult. Her sister seemed to be okay. I resolved to ask my parents about them. All I knew was that the Steele children were adopted, but I had no idea under what circumstances.

If Anastasia did join the first dance auction, I'd be sure to get her myself, no matter the cost. I suddenly knew that I didn't want any other man near her.

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Thank you for reading. Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Anastasia PoV

I couldn't believe Kate was making me do this. I hated dancing. I hated being touched. And I hated music. Well, that last one wasn't true, but for the sake of the argument, it was. She wouldn't listen to me. Despite years of therapy, I couldn't stand being touched. Any time someone touched anything other than my hands, or kissed my cheeks, it brought back horrid memories of my childhood.

Kate was just a baby when _it_ happened. An infant. She doesn't remember. Hell, Ethan hardly remembers, and he was four. I was nearly six the day we were rescued, and I remember everything.

I was dragged away from Christian towards the dance floor where a large group of young women had congregated, all participants, I guessed. "There are plenty of girls here to choose from," I hissed at my sister. "You don't need me."

"Of course we do!" Mia interjected, putting her hand on my shoulder. I froze. My breaths came in and out in short pants and within seconds, she released me, understanding coloring her features. Curious, that. "Um, it'll be fun," she added, feeling apologetic for some reason.

One by one, the women were called up, given exorbitantly exaggerated back-stories, and the men would bid their hard earned dollars on them, for just one dance. Perhaps I could convince whatever man won me to just dance near each other, and not with each other. I could be very convincing when I needed to be.

"And here's the lovely Kate!" the auctioneer bellowed, pulling my sister on stage. "At just twenty-one, Kate is a well-known interior designer, loves long walks on the beach, speaks five languages and is an accomplished ballerina! Let's begin with five-thousand dollars!" _Five languages? That's a bit of an exaggeration. Oh wait, they do that on purpose_ , I think _. I'm the one that speaks five languages._ And the bidding began on my sister. If this wasn't such a joke, and if the money weren't going to a really great cause, then I might have been a little put off by the whole situation. These men were paying tens of thousands of dollars for one dance with a woman they knew nothing about. Pure objectification. Part of me wondered if these men would expect something more than just a dance out of us.

Finally after getting to thirteen thousand dollars, Kate was auctioned off to Elliot. Hmm, that was interesting. Perhaps he _was_ into her. She giggled like a school girl and danced into his waiting arms. Yep, they were definitely into each other. Good for Kate.

Mia was on the chopping block next, and to my utter shock, my brother Ethan outbid everyone for her. A whopping seventeen thousand dollar bid. I knew he had the money; hell, I signed his paychecks, but still. Mia seemed all too excited to be in his arms and I wondered if a romance would blossom there as well. Then it would only be expected for me to make it with Christian. It'd be the perfect cliché. Three siblings falling for another set of three siblings. Our parents would rejoice.

Little did they know, I had no interest in romance. Of any sort. Although, if I had to, I could definitely do worse than Christian Grey.

Oh crap. I was next. "Last but certainly not least, we have the demure Anastasia!" He grasped my hand and twirled me around the stage, causing my face to turn several shades of crimson. Thank god for the mask. "At twenty-six, she has two masters' degrees, runs a company, has mastered several forms of martial arts, and speaks fluent Mandarin! Shall we begin with ten thousand dollars?" Ten thousand dollars?! For the beginning bid? Was he crazy?! Wait; maybe that was Kate's ploy all along. Get me all stressed out about this stupid dance, only to have the auctioneer start my bidding off way too high. No one would want to pay 10,000 dollars for me.

To my shock and utter surprise, Christian Grey accepted the first bid. Another man upped it to twelve thousand, and Christian countered with fifteen. What?! Not one but two men wanted to dance with me? _Me_? I had no idea who the other man was. His face was obscured by the mask, and what I could see of him didn't ring any bells.

The proverbial dick measuring contest went on until Christian blurted out, "One hundred thousand dollars." My mouth hit the floor. Several people around me were hissing their disbelief. One girl that had been auctioned off earlier for a mere seven thousand dollars, not even earning a single bid from Christian, glared at me with such hatred in her eyes, it nearly turned me to stone.

I realized then that Christian hadn't bid on any of the women until me. Why was that? It should have been obvious to me that he wanted to dance with me, but until that moment, I had no idea.

"Sold!" the auctioneer announced. I was frozen to my spot on the floor, gaping at Christian. Somehow I made my way down the steps of the stage and partway in his direction.

"Shall we dance?" Christian asked, as he casually strolled up to me. He held his hand out to me, and I regarded it as if it were a venomous snake. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but hope and curiosity in them. _You've got to get over your fears, Steele_ , my subconscious lectured me.

"Um, alright," I replied, finally, placing my hand in his. "Not too close though," I requested, pleading to him with my eyes, not even bothering to hide my fear.

"Of course," he said. "I'll just hold your hand and place my other here." He gently placed his hand on my waist, not touching my skin, thankfully. I flinched minutely, but the contact wasn't altogether abhorrent. He kept his arms almost fully extended so there was a foot of space between us. "Is this alright?"

"Yes, this is fine." I placed my free hand on his upper arm and felt him flinch beneath my touch. Did he hate to be touched as much as I did?

The music began and we moved across the dance floor. He was a glorious dancer, leading me perfectly, keeping the distance between us, but never taking his eyes off mine. "You have beautiful eyes, Anastasia," he told me. I blushed under my mask, thankful that he couldn't see it.

Round and round the dance floor we went, completely oblivious to the dancers around us. Somehow we avoided collisions, but something told me Christian knew exactly what he was doing. He was the master of his universe, controller of all things. Something very deep and dark inside me told me he wanted control of me, too.

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Christian PoV

She let me touch her! Well, her waist, not her skin, but it was a start. Before the auction had begun, I strolled over and spoke with her parents. Curious about the enigma that was Anastasia Steele.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Steele. I'm Christian, Carrick and Grace's son," I greeted them, shaking their hands.

"Oh yes! We were just speaking about you. Your mother saw you leading our daughter on a tour of the grounds. She mentioned she'd never seen you with anyone before," Mrs. Steele said.

"Yes, well, your daughter is a lovely woman," I replied. "She's participating in the dance auction, and I've vowed to ensure that I get her first dance."

"She did what?" they chorused in unison.

At my confused expression, Mr. Steele explained. "Our daughter… well, she likes to keep her distance from people. Physically I mean. She doesn't like to be touched. So we're surprised that she'd consent to dancing with anyone. Ever."

"Well, I can ensure that I'll touch her as little as possible," I promised them. "It seemed as though your other daughter, Kate, along with my sister, Mia, were quite insistent on getting Anastasia on the dance floor."

"Oh Kate," Mrs. Steele muttered. "Will she ever learn?" She had a sad, wistful expression on her face.

This confused me. Evidently, Anastasia's parents were well aware of her aversion to being touched. As mine were aware of my similar aversion. But my siblings never pressed it. They never tried to get me out of my shell. For a moment I wondered if that was a good or a bad thing. Perhaps they should have tried harder to get me to come around.

As soon as I saw her on the stage, waiting to be bid upon, I knew I'd stop at nothing to ensure she was in my arms for the dance. The bidding began at ten thousand, which was higher than any other beginning bid, but I didn't care. She was worth every penny. I didn't know who the hell the other guy was that was bidding on her, but he put off a very creepy vibe, so I blurted out a hundred grand to get him off her scent.

Dancing with her was like floating on a cloud. I could feel the soft fabric of her dress swishing against my legs with each turn. Her hair would brush against my fingers or even across my face when I twirled her around. The feeling was exquisite. Her hair was softer than the silk wrap around her shoulders. It brushed against my hand like a caress. I wanted nothing more than to thread my fingers into her hair and hold her close to me. Would she ever let me?

Regretfully, the song came to an end and Anastasia stepped away from me, breaking my contact with her. "That was lovely," she told me, her eyes downcast. "Thank you, Christian." She peeked up at me shyly and I knew right then and there she'd make a perfect submissive. All I had to do was get her out of her shell. Away from her fear of being touched. I could be patient with her, take my time showing her the amazing things her body could feel.

"Dinner is almost about to be served," Gretchen informed me as she passed. She looked at me like she wanted to eat me up, and then looked at Anastasia as if she was an evil witch. Jeez, one dance and all the women were jealous. I offered my hand to Anastasia once again, inviting her into the tent for the meal. She took it with a smile and let me lead her off the dance floor.

Once in the tent, I noticed that each table had assigned seats. Much to my happiness, Anastasia was assigned to the seat next to mine. I rejoiced inside, but only let a small smile show on my face. This woman was affecting me in ways I'd never felt before. I couldn't remember the last time I felt butterflies in my stomach. Never, probably.

I held out the chair for her, for which she thanked me. "Am I allowed to take this thing off to eat?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, glad she was asking permission for something. That held promise. I waited with baited breath as she removed her mask. She reached one delicate hand up, and removed the string from the tie on one side, pulling the string out of her carefully coiffed hair, and the slid the mask off, placing it next to her empty champagne flute. She kept her face down, shielding it from me. I wanted to reach over, grasp her chin gently, and turn her towards me.

Finally she took in a deep breath and looked up, scanning the room for assurance that others were also removing their masks. I pulled mine off to give her added comfort. She turned towards me and looked into my eyes. Her eyes were so blue, clear, like the icy waters of Alaska, but not cold. They held a warmth there, a comfort that I'd never known. But it also felt like they could see right through me. I felt… exposed.

"You have beautiful eyes, too," she complimented me. Blushing as she did so. I was lost in her gaze. The world around us a blur of colors and movement that I cared not to pay attention to. The house could be on fire, a tornado ripping across the lawn, and the ocean stirring up a mighty storm, and I wouldn't notice.

"Thank you," I finally replied. "You are so beautiful." She blushed immediately, her entire face turning a pale rose color. It was lovely. I wondered if the rest of her body would turn that lovely color after a nice flogging or cropping. The possibilities were endless. I realized that she must be really very shy and possibly insecure. Given her sister was a blonde haired, green eyed beauty, well to some, at least. She probably saw herself as in Kate's shadow in that department. Though where I found Kate's beauty to be rather generic and unappealing, Anastasia was a wonder. A joy to look at. And she had no idea the effect she had.

As we sat in comfortable silence, Anastasia perused the menu, reading it aloud:

 _A Masked Ball in Aide of Coping Together Menu_

 _Salmon Tartare with Crème Fraiche and Cucumber on Toasted Brioche_

 _Alban Estate Rousanne, 2006_

 _Roasted Muscovy Duck Breast_

 _Creamy Jerusalem Artichoke Puree_

 _Thyme Roasted Bing Cherries_

 _Foie Gras_

 _Chateauneuf-due Pape Veilles Vignes, 2006_

 _Domaine de la Janasse_

 _Sugar-Crusted Walnut Chiffon_

 _Candied Figs_

 _Sabayon_

 _Maple Ice Cream_

 _Vin de Constance 2004 Klein Constantia_

 _Selection of Local Cheeses and Breads_

 _Alban Estate Granache, 2006_

 _Coffee and Petits Fours._

"And here I thought you spoke fluent Mandarin," I joked. She pronounced each item perfectly.

"Oh most of that was made up, and you know it," she replied sardonically. "But I do speak French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, and Romanian."

I balked. "All fluently?" She nodded shyly. Wow, beautiful, witty and intelligent. She was like a dream.

The courses began to arrive, and I watched, interested as Anastasia cleaned each plate. Few women I knew would be able to put away that much food and maintain the tiny figure that Anastasia had. She had curves in all the right places, but overall, she was rather slight. Perhaps she was no stranger to hunger, like me.

"If you like the cuisine here, the chef owns a restaurant downtown. My family knows him well. I'd be happy to take you there for dinner sometime. If you like," I offered. This was the first time in my entire life that I'd ever asked a woman out to dinner. Never had the idea ever even popped into my head before. Anastasia certainly was having me experience all kinds of new things. A world of firsts.

"Like on a date?" she asked, suddenly unsure of herself.

"If you'd like to call it that, sure," I replied. "Or we could just go as friends. Whatever makes you more comfortable."

She sat in silence for a few long moments, indecision running through her. She wrung her hands together, nervously. I was about to tell her to forget the whole thing when she finally spoke. "Okay," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Anastasia PoV

What the hell was I thinking? A date? I don't go on dates! I'd never been on a date in my life. Why, oh why did I agree to go on one now? And with Christian Grey of all people. If it wasn't for his megawatt smile after I agreed, I would have retracted my assent immediately. But he was just so damn gorgeous, I couldn't help it. Only God knew what this date would be like. I hoped to come out of it alive and without the need for further therapy. Yikes.

Not long after dinner, I feigned being tired, and had Reynolds drive me home. He'd return afterwards to collect Kate and Ethan. Unless of course they were spending the night with Elliot and Mia. I wouldn't have been surprised if I didn't see them at breakfast the next morning. Christian waited with me while Reynolds collected the car.

"I look forward to next Friday, Anastasia," he said. Normally I preferred to be called "Ana," but the way my name rolled off his tongue like a caress, made me swoon. Every time. I hadn't bothered to correct him once, and I wasn't about to start.

"Me too," I replied, shyly. "What shall we do? Just the dinner?" I asked.

"Oh no, Miss Steele. That's a surprise," he replied. Oh no.

"Um, not to ruin it, but I really hate surprises. Honestly and truly. I like to go in with full knowledge of what's going to happen and what to expect. I don't like not being in the know, it makes me nervous. And not in a good way," I told him.

"Fair point well made, Miss Steele. How about I text you the itinerary on the day of? Will that give you sufficient time to prepare yourself?" he asked.

"Yes, but you don't have my number," I replied. "I should probably give it to you." I fished my phone out of my clutch to take down his number. He recited the digits and I sent him a quick text message so he'd have mine as well. I heard his phone chirp from his pocket, indicating the message was sent.

"Thank you, Anastasia. For a wonderful evening." He grasped my hand and pulled it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss just past my knuckles. As my arm rose, my bangles slid down, towards my elbow, exposing my wrist. He caught a glimpse of it. "What's this?" he asked, trailing his thumb across my scar.

I snatched my hand back, suddenly thrown into that memory, feeling the pain of my wrist being cut into. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It's okay, Christian," I whispered back. How could I date someone when I couldn't stand to be touched? This was never going to work. "Um, I look forward to hearing from you," I said as I got into the car. Christian held onto the car door for a long moment before reaching in to caress my cheek. That was okay. That I could handle.

"Until we meet again, Miss Steele," he said sadly, and closed the door.

Once at home, I reeled over what I had just done. I'd just agreed to go on a date with the most eligible and richest bachelor in all of the Pacific Northwest. To the outside eye, it was a match made in heaven. Two of Seattle's most successful singles getting paired together. Steele Designs' stock would skyrocket. Our clientele would be flowing in from every entrance, and we'd be set for eternity.

But the outside eye didn't know me. Didn't know him. Hell, I didn't know him. I thought he seemed just as reluctant to be touched as I was, but perhaps not. I couldn't let him touch me, much less hold me, hug me, and god forbid make love to me. All of it was impossible.

This dinner on Friday would be the first and last date with him. Unless he could consent to having a completely celibate relationship with a scarred freak-show. Yeah right. Christian Grey practically had women swimming out of his pockets and shirtsleeves. Any one of the women at the benefit would have given their life savings and their first born child for one night with that man. I had no doubt that his bed was rarely empty.

As soon as he learned what I truly was, he'd want nothing to do with me. Of that I was completely certain.

Once home, I strolled into my en-suite and took a look at myself in the mirror again. I looked okay. With the curls in my hair, the make up on my face, and the dress draped over my slight form, I looked presentable. But take all that away. Remove the rouge, satin and silk, and I was a plain Jane. Nothing special. Nothing extraordinary. And underneath that, the physical and emotional scars.

I was a walking, talking disaster. Even if I could get past my aversion to being touched, as soon as he placed one hand on my bare skin, he'd shrink back in disgust. No one would want that. I'm sure that's why _he_ did it to me, and why _she_ did nothing to stop it. They left my face alone, which I was grateful for, but the rest of me… I resembled Frankenstein far closer than an attractive human being.

An hour later I heard the front door open and a very drunk Kate stumble in with Ethan in tow. I guess they decided not to spend the night with Elliot and Mia. Probably a good thing if they were staying at their parents' house. "Ana! Are you home?" Kate slurs.

I rolled my eyes. A drunk Kate was not always a fun Kate. "Yes, Kate. I am," I replied. I padded out to the foyer in my robe and slippers.

"Rumor has it you not only danced with Christian, but agreed to go on a date with him?!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, I did, though I'm thinking I should cancel," I replied, looking down at my feet.

"No! You can't! Elliot told me Christian's never dated before! He's never brought a girlfriend home; or a boyfriend for that matter. When his parents found out, they were overjoyed! You can't cancel!" Oh great. He was a lot more like me than I'd anticipated.

Well, that could be a good thing. If neither of us had ever dated, then neither of us would have a clue what we were doing. We could go super slow, take things one step at a time, and maybe over time, I could get over my fears, get past my insecurities, and truly be with someone.

Wait, what the hell was I thinking?! It had been twenty years and hardly a single change had happened. Why would one man change everything? Perhaps I needed to call Dr. Flynn.

* * *

Christian PoV

Something wasn't quite right about that woman. And I was determined to find out. She seemed to be a lot like me, which could be a good or a bad thing. She'd understand why I am the way I am. Perhaps I could be completely honest with her and tell her all about my past. But at the same time, maybe not. Maybe she wouldn't want anything to do with someone who came from the wrong side of the tracks. Even if I'd come a long way since then, she might not be able to look past the bad.

Hell, why would anyone look past the bad? It made me who I am today. All of me. My need to control the world around me, my aversion to getting close emotionally to anyone, not letting anyone touch me, and my deep seeded need to punish any woman that remotely resembles the crack-whore.

Anastasia Steele. So beautiful. Much prettier than the crack-whore. Where her hair was thin and stringy from all the drugs and poor hygiene, Anastasia's was thick, luscious and soft. The crack-whore's eyes were a dull, flat grey. Anastasia's were a brilliant blue, bluer than the sky, deeper than the sea. They could see right through me, into my dark soul, and yet she still agreed to go on a date with me.

No surprises. Okay. I had to tell her exactly what I had planned. In my inner-most desire, I wanted to have Mrs. Jones cook a gourmet meal, serve it in my dining room, then escort the lovely Miss Steele up to my playroom and show her a world she never knew existed. But something told me I couldn't go that route. Not right away, at least.

She'd likely be more comfortable in a public setting. And unfortunately, the chef I told her about was going on vacation, and I didn't know the interim chef well enough, so going to that restaurant was out. I'd call around to my favorite restaurants and find out which one had the best menu planned for the next weekend. I'd wine and dine Anastasia, slowly get her more comfortable with me, then once I knew she felt safe and secure, then and only then would I introduce her to the play room.

Monday morning came, and it dragged on and on. Deciding for a break in the monotony, I texted Anastasia, not something I normally did. Another first.

 **Good day, Miss Steele. I trust the rest of your weekend was exemplary. I look forward to our rendezvous this Friday.**

Almost immediately there was a reply. So, she kept her phone near her at all times, it seemed. I liked that. If she was to be my submissive, I needed to have constant contact with her.

 **Good day to you too, Mr. Grey. Sunday was rather dull, but occasionally that's a good thing. How was your Sunday? And I must say, I'd be looking more forward to Friday if I had a clue what we were doing.**

 _Mr. Grey_. I could just imagine that name slipping out of her mouth. It made my cock twitch in desire. I quickly tamped down those feelings. It wouldn't do any good to be thinking about _that_ all week.

 **My Sunday paled in comparison to my Saturday night, which was spent with one brunette goddess. I was thinking we'd go to dinner on Friday night. And then I'd take you to my favorite place to see the Seattle night sky. Does that sound okay?**

I found myself actually wondering if it sounded like a good date. I had no idea how to go about this. Normally I would just pick an activity and my submissive would agree, no questions asked. Regardless of whether or not it was something she wanted to do. Now I actually cared about this woman's opinion. I wanted her to truly have a good time, not just be happy because we were doing something that made me happy. Another first.

My phone pinged with her reply.

 **A brunette goddess? Me? Hardly, Mr. Grey. More like a mousy brown haired scullery maid, but thank you. Dinner and a view sounds lovely.**

My blood boiled. She didn't find herself attractive? She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Or she had no idea how to take a compliment. If nothing else, I had to get her to see herself the way others see her. I wasn't the only man who was after her attentions the other night. She knew there was another man bidding on her during the dance. And if she hadn't spent the entire evening at my side, he would have asked her for one anyway.

 **You are a goddess, of the highest order. I assure you. And I won't have you thinking so poorly of yourself. Don't believe me? Ask all the other men that were at the benefit. They were stumbling over each other for the chance to speak to you.**

Let's see what she thought of that.

 **Agree to disagree, Sir. And I don't recall seeing any men stumbling anywhere near me. As I recall, I was the only one doing any stumbling. Though perhaps it was because you monopolized my attention all evening. Not that I'm complaining of course. My sister wants to know where you're taking me for dinner. And I'm curious as well.**

She was showing her sister the text messages? That needed to stop right away.

 **Please do not disclose any further information to your sister. I prefer to keep my relationships private in all aspects. And I've yet to pick a restaurant, but will let you know as soon as I do.**

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed again, with her reply.

 **Relationship? Is that what this is? I thought we were having a conversation. If relationships have been reduced to exchanging a few text messages for an hour, then I'm severely out of touch. And I didn't tell her anything other than the fact that you are taking me to dinner. That seemed innocent enough.**

Oh she was feisty. I liked that. A lot. And witty. Before I could reply, my phone buzzed again reminding me of my upcoming appointment with Doctor Flynn. Should I tell him about Anastasia? He'd certainly consider it a breakthrough. Or perhaps the good doctor would advise me to steer clear of a woman who may or may not have similar afflictions to mine.

* * *

Anastasia PoV

What was he playing at? "He called me a brunette goddess," I told Kate, as I re-read through our conversation. She was barricading herself in my office in order to avoid her clingy PA that wouldn't stop asking if she wanted more tea. Each sip she took, he'd be on her like white on rice asking if she needed a refresher. Even _I_ thought it was annoying and he wasn't my assistant.

She told him she had a meeting with me and that it would take all morning. He knew that I didn't like to be disturbed during meetings, so it gave her a few hours reprieve from the endless tea-torment. It was hard for her to concentrate on any designs when she was constantly being pestered by the boy. I don't know why she didn't fire his ass and get a better PA. Something about his smile, she'd always say. Though I knew she had no interest in anyone but Elliot Grey, she apparently liked this kid's smile.

"Well you are," she replied. I rolled my eyes at her. "Dammit, Ana! When will you ever see yourself the way the rest of the world sees you? You're a total babe. Christian wasn't the only guy vying for your attention the other night. You were so wrapped up in him that you didn't notice. But I saw at least six other guys that tried to approach you several times. They saw you, started to walk towards you, but Grey shooed each of them away with a deathly glare.

"Speaking of which, I'm not sure I trust him, sis. He seemed to exhibit some kind of hold over you that you didn't even notice. You were completely captivated by him, and I could hardly get a word out of you when he was near. Also, the way he watched you, like a hawk. And it wasn't like a mother hawk protecting her babies. Well, it kind of was, but it was also like a hawk eying its prey. Waiting for the right moment to strike."

"So you're saying that he wanted to both protect me and attack me? At the same time?" I replied, disbelief all over my face. "Please, Kate. I may be inexperienced in the romance world, but I can handle myself. I'll just treat him like I would any other man I deal with on a day to day basis. You know how well I handle José. This should be no different."

"José is a completely different story, Ana," Kate replied. "He's harmless. Like a little kid, and you know that. Christian is something else. He's stronger, darker… there's something else to him, and that worries me. You shouldn't have the first guy you date be so complex. He should be more simple. Like José, for example!"

"Kate, I'm not dating José. You know I don't see him that way. And I don't plan on dating Christian. I'll admit I was captivated by him the other night, but I could never actually date him. I can't date anyone." José was our photographer. When we finished a project that we were particularly proud of, he'd come in and photograph it for the website and catalog. We owed a lot of our continued business to his expertise with lighting and photography sets. He'd expressed interest in me on more than one occasion, but knew to keep his distance now.

"You can, and you will," Kate replied. "It's high time you get out of your shell. You were doing so well on Saturday! Apart from falling into Christian's arms, which by the way, was a great move, even if it was by accident, you danced with him! I thought for sure you'd fight me tooth and nail on that dance auction, but you hardly resisted at all. It was like you somehow _knew_ that he was going to bid on you and win."

"In other news," I retorted, desperate to change the subject. "How was dancing with Elliot? And did you see Ethan with Mia?"

"Yeah! That was totally unexpected. I don't think she even knew he existed before. But he's apparently as crazy about her as I am about Elliot. He's great, Ana. Tall, handsome, strong, funny, and a good kisser. Oh damn, he's a good kisser." Oh, so she kissed him. That was news. I wondered if anything else happened, but I knew if I asked her that she'd go into all the raunchy details. And those I did _not_ want.

Later that afternoon, my phone buzzed telling me of my upcoming appointment with the good shrink, Dr. Flynn. He mentioned that he had a new treatment plan for me. Of all the ones I'd tried, I was surprised there were any methods left. But perhaps this one would finally work.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Christian PoV

I drove to Flynn's office on a high. I was happier than I'd ever been, just from having an informal conversation with Anastasia through text messages. As I waited for his previous appointment to finish, I re-read through our conversation. She didn't think very highly of herself, which seemed odd to me. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, but she was the CEO of a major company at the age of 26. Apart from myself, not many could claim that. Her sister and brother were two of the most coveted designers in the industry.

Dr. Flynn's office was sparse, but well decorated. The chairs in the waiting room were a dark-blue suede that invited you into them. They were very comfortable, like sitting on a cloud, I imagined. His receptionist, Amanda, I thought, greeted me and told me the good doctor would be only a few more minutes. I nodded curtly at her, refused her offer for a beverage and sat on one of the cloud-like chairs.

Anastasia. Her name wrapped around me like a caress. It filled me where I had been empty, and left me longing for more. Just picturing her face in my thoughts brightened my mood. Even people in my office that day had noticed a change in my demeanor. Could one woman change my mood by merely popping into my thoughts?

"You seem in higher spirits," Dr. Flynn said as I sat down on the couch near his wingback chair. "Something's changed. Is there a new woman?"

"Yes and no," I replied. "Not a new sub. At least not yet. This woman is different though. She makes me feel different. Different than any of the other women I've been with. I find myself wanting to spend time with her other than just in my playroom. She already knows my family and I've asked her on a date."

"Oh! A date? That's a first, right?" he asked. His tone was curious; he knew I'd never taken a woman out on a date before.

"Yes, it is a first. I've done many firsts already in regards to her. Though I wonder if she might be as damaged as I am." My mind flickers back to the memory of me touching her wrist when she left that evening. She snatched her hand back so fast, it was like I'd burned her. The short glimpse I did get of her wrists looked like she'd worn a bracelet too tight for a long time. They almost looked like ligature marks. But those usually fade away, like bruises.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, she can't stand to be touched, like me. She has strange scars on her wrists. When we danced, she mandated that I keep at least one foot of distance between us. I longed to wrap her in my arms and press her against me, but her distance kept me from doing so. That and her parents told me she doesn't like to be touched.

"I can't get her out of my mind, Flynn. It's obvious that she isn't ideal for my tastes. If she's so afraid to be touched, how could she possibly handle what I'd want to do in my play room? There's no way she'd ever consent to that."

"Don't make assumptions based on one night, Christian. You've not seen her since, have you?" he asked.

"No, we exchanged a few text messages earlier today, but that's it. She also seems to be a bit more controlling than I prefer. Feisty at the very least, which is good. But all other signs point to incompatibility, but I can't help thinking about her," I admitted. "I can't help wanting her in ways I've never wanted anyone."

"It sounds like she's captivated you," he told me. Well that was fucking obvious. "What's her name?" he asked. I wondered why he asked that, but knew it wasn't for any unsavory reason.

"Anastasia," I replied, enunciating each syllable as if it was the most important word in the world. "Anastasia Steele." He froze. Recognition colored his features. "Do you know her?" I asked.

"Um. Of her…" he replied, seemingly recovered. "I know of her. She's the CEO of Steele Designs, correct?" He flipped through a few pages of his notes, but came back to the first one. His cheeks were slightly reddened. I wondered if he knew more than just "of her."

"Yes, that's her. She's very successful, brilliant, beautiful and witty. And completely wrong for me. There's no way she could satisfy my needs, John. How can she?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss her. If she feels any bit as strongly towards you, she might be willing to try things. Be willing to compromise and negotiate with you. It's all about communication. Whether it's a relationship of your preference, or a more common one, communication is the most important thing. I suggest you be honest with her. Lay it all out on the table, see how she reacts, and then go from there. And in addition to that, if she's eliciting these feelings in you that you've never had before, perhaps you can move on from the ropes and whips, and into a truly emotional relationship." The man actually had a point. Perhaps the large salary I paid him was actually worth it.

We spent the rest of the hour chatting about the Coping Together benefit. He was invited, but at the last minute, wasn't able to attend. For that I was grateful. Normally I would have liked his presence there, but having just met Anastasia, I didn't want to deal with his prying eyes during the evening. Constantly wondering how he was psycho-analyzing me. Without his presence, I was able to concentrate more on the woman at my side.

Could we compromise? What changes would I be willing to make to accommodate her? On my way out of the office, I thought about these, staring down at the patterns in the marble floor. "You can go in, Miss Steele," I heard Flynn's receptionist say. _Miss Steele?_

I glanced up and saw Anastasia Steele staring at me, blue eyes wide as saucers. She never looked more beautiful. "Um, hi," she said. Now I know why Flynn seemed to recognize her name when I mentioned her. She was his next patient. As I gazed at her, she flushed a deep crimson. It was very enticing.

She wore a simple grey pencil skirt with a violet long sleeve blouse. Her Louis Vuitton heels matched the shade of her shirt perfectly. She was a vision. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, professional yet elegant. I wondered what she'd been up to all day in her office. And more than anything I wanted to be under her desk.

* * *

Ana PoV

Shit. Shit. Shit! Why was he here? Did he know Dr. Flynn, too? He just came out of his office, was he a patient like me? Oh dear god. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. "Um, hi," I said awkwardly. How the hell do you greet the guy you're supposed to be going on a date with, when he just came out of a shrink's office, and said shrink happens to be yours, too? I could feel my blush creeping down my face and neck.

"You look lovely today, Anastasia," he said.

"Um, thank you. You look good, too," I replied, giggling awkwardly. This man has reduced me to a blubbering school girl in a matter of seconds. "I um, have my appointment now," I said, looking down at the floor. _Please just walk past me and leave me to my embarrassment,_ I thought.

"Of course, my apologies," he replied shyly. Good, he felt awkward about this whole encounter, too. "I'll um, talk to you later." He stepped toward me, reached out and squeezed my hand. He then leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. "Your blush is lovely," he whispered as he passed, a sexy smirk on his lips. It only made me blush harder.

Oh. My.

I stumbled into Flynn's office and shut the door behind me. "It appears that you are just as affected by him as he by you," he said. "And good afternoon, Ana."

"You mean he giggles like a school-girl, too?" I quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, I can't divulge that information, Ana. But I can say that you two will have your work cut out for you, if you're going to make any kind of relationship work."

"That's one reason why I made this appointment," I told him. "I need to get over my fear of being touched, if not for him, for me. I can't keep living in this bubble of fear."

"I'm glad you're finally realizing that," he replied. "It's taken a few years and apparently the appearance of one Christian Grey in your life for you to fully accept that you need to change. For starters, your scars. You hate your body because of your scars. You can't see that you truly are an attractive young woman. As soon as you think about someone seeing your back or your wrists, you go into panic mode and retreat into yourself.

"Your scars are a part of you. They were part of what made you who you are today. They don't make you damaged or broken, they make you unique. I had a patient a number of years ago, who had similar scars to yours. Hers were received a bit differently, but rather than covering them up, hiding them, she made them stand out by tattooing them. Each scar tells a story, Ana. And I know you remember each one. Tell the stories, talk about them. Don't bottle everything up inside."

"You think I should tell Christian about them? About my childhood?"

"You'll be surprised how much you have in common with him," he replied. Did he really just say that? Was he allowed to say that? "I advised him to be honest and forthcoming with you. I suggest you do the same. If you hide from each other, you'll never know each other.

"Of all the treatment plans you've tried over the years, I think connecting with someone who shares a similar past will be the best one. You can try his methods, and he yours. Together, you can both overcome your afflictions. I truly think you meeting that man was not by accident."

"Well, it quite literally was," I replied, I told him the story of how I tripped on the dance floor and fell into Christian's arms. I continued with the rest of the evening. How I was mortified and terrified about the dance auction, but that Christian made it easier by outbidding the other men, keeping me at arm's length, and being generally respectful all night. He apparently kept other suitors at bay, but never once tried to cross my boundaries. Not until he touched my wrist anyway. Not that he did it on purpose.

I wondered if Christian sat here pouring his heart out about me to Flynn. Did Flynn tell him that he knew me? No. Christian seemed genuinely surprised to see me, so Flynn probably kept his mouth shut. I wouldn't know that he knew Christian if it weren't for running into him in the waiting area.

God, how awkward would this conversation be? I'm dating a man who has the same therapist as me. Freud would have a field day with this. Oh, and whatever am I going to tell Kate? No, Christian asked me not to disclose any information to Kate. And sharing the same shrink surely falls under that request, doesn't it? Should I just call the whole thing off?

I sat there not listening to Flynn's words as I warred inside about my upcoming date with Christian. God knew I found him attractive. He was the first man I'd ever found attractive. And here I thought I'd be terrified of men for the rest of my life.

The terror sets in and I'm thrown into my memories.

 _Mommy lies on the table, blood pouring out of her arms and from between her legs. Baby Sister in my arms, crying and crying. She won't stop crying. Brother starts crying. He doesn't understand what happened. I don't understand what happened. Why did mommy take the scissors and cut her arms up? Doesn't that hurt?_

 _I remember when I accidentally cut myself with the scissors. It hurt real bad. Almost as bad as… almost as bad as… with the… ropes._

 _Baby Sister won't stop crying. I don't know what to do. Mommy won't get up. Then I hear the door open. It slams against the wall, tearing a hole in it. There_ he _is. Oh no. He's going to be mad that Mommy isn't awake. I cradle Baby Sister in my arms, holding her close, trying to keep her safe from him._

 _He stomps across the floor, glaring at Mommy lying on the table. "What the fuck did you do?" he yells at her. He picks up her arm and drops it. It makes a loud thud against the table top. She doesn't move. "You killed her! You little bitch!" He yells at me._

 _I shake my head at him, tears starting to pour down my eyes. He's walking towards me now, his eyes like fire. I put Baby Sister in Brother's arms. He can't hurt the baby. Please just hurt me. Not Brother and not Baby Sister._

 _"_ _She was my best money maker you little cunt," he hollers at me. I feel the back of his hand smack my face, sending me on to the floor. I taste blood in my mouth. "Now you're gonna work for me. You got that? You're gonna make me all my money, bitch."_

 _He picks me up and throws me against the couch. I start crying louder and louder every time he hits me. Doesn't he see that no matter how many times he hits me, it won't make me stop crying? Then he tears off my shirt and my pants. No. Those are the only clothes I have. Mommy can't go buy anymore._

 _Then I see him undo his button and zipper, pulling his pants down. What is he going to do? "Let's just see how good you are. See how much money I can get for this juicy little pussy." He puts his hands between my legs and feels around. I don't like it. I cry more. I wish for words to beg him to stop._

"Ana… Ana!" Dr. Flynn yelled, pulling me out of my memory. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Did you have another flashback?"

"Yes," I reply, wiping the tears away from my face. "The worst one."

"I'm sorry to say our time is done, and I have another patient scheduled, or I'd extend our session. Just remember this, Ana. He's not here. He can't hurt you. You have the power over your own life. You must own your fear and overcome it."

I left his office in a daze. So many emotions to sort through. I didn't feel like I was in any place to even think about letting someone like Christian in my life. Flynn ardently disagreed with me, that Christian was exactly who I needed in my life. But due to his own patient-doctor confidentiality, he couldn't tell me why.

On my way home, my phone buzzed with an incoming message. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was from Christian. Oh dear. Let the awkward begin.

 **Good afternoon, Anastasia It was a surprise to see you today. I gather you're a patient of Flynn's as well. He's a good man, isn't he?**

Oh god, he wanted to discuss the merits of Dr. Flynn? Not a chance.

 **Yes, he is a good man. It was a BIG surprise to see you there. You looked very handsome by the way.**

 _Please deflect the conversation by accepting my compliment_ , I wished.

 **Thank you. You were rather ravishing yourself, Miss Steele. Violet is a great color on you. It complements your complexion beautifully. Any plans for dinner tonight, by chance?**

God, bring on the blush again. Thank god, he wasn't here to see my skin turn tomato-red. Wait, he wants to go to dinner tonight? What happened to Friday? Oh no, he didn't want to date me. Of course, who would want to date a basket case like me who needed a shrink? And why would he want to date a woman who saw the same shrink as him? That would be so many kinds of awkward.

 **Dinner tonight? Um, I hadn't thought about food yet. I normally just cook for myself and whoever is in my house, which normally isn't anyone. Are you asking me out tonight in addition to Friday?**

I waited for a minute or two for his reply.

 **Miss Steele, if I had my way, we'd have dinner together every night. I could be at your house tonight. You could cook for me.**

Didn't that violate dating protocol? First date is always somewhere public. In case one of the parties ends up being an axe murderer, right? But we did already meet at the benefit. And my family knew his family. It wasn't like he was a _complete_ stranger. Close enough though.

 **Sure, that sounds great. I'm on my way home now. I'm sure I can throw something together for us to dine on. Be prepared for a delicious meal, Mr. Grey.**

I tried to lighten the conversation, coax a smile out of the beautiful man.

 **That sounds lovely, Miss Steele. Shall I bring a bottle of wine?**

I quickly replied.

 **Um, you can if you like. I don't drink, so I won't indulge, but we do have a full wine cellar at home. You're welcome to peruse that.**

He replied that it sounded great, and he'd be over within two hours. I rushed my way home, threw myself into the kitchen and began cooking like my life depended on it. And like clockwork, two hours later, the doorbell rang. Reynolds greeted him at the door and led him towards the kitchen where I was still busy putting the finishing touches on dinner.

"Here we go," I whispered to myself.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Christian PoV

"Welcome," she greeted me as I entered the kitchen. "This is Reynolds, if he didn't introduce himself. He's kind of my right hand man." My mood darkened slightly at her words. Not if I had anything to do about it.

"Yes, he did when he answered the door. Thank you Reynolds," I said, dismissing him. Anastasia narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips at me. Oh yes, Reynolds was _her_ employee, not mine. Oops.

"Will that be all ma'am?" Reynolds asked her, reverting the power back to Anastasia. Good man. I glanced around the room while they continued their exchange. The foyer was all marble with Grecian columns on either side of the doorways that entered to various parts of the house. Reynolds had led me to the left, which led into the kitchen and dining area. She had a state of the art kitchen with all stainless steel appliances. A double oven built into one wall, and a huge stove on her island. The countertops were all granite. A beautiful hunter green shade. The floor was slate tile arranged in an artful mosaic.

"Yes, thank you Reynolds," she said, waving him away, pulling my attention back to her. "Would you like to visit the wine cellar?" she asked me, pointing to a large wooden door to her right, noticing I wasn't carrying a bottle. I got a good look at her at this point, as she'd stepped around from behind the countertop. She was wearing the same outfit as before, only now a black apron was covering her front. I imagined her cooking in nothing but that apron and those mile-high heels. My cock twitched in response.

"No, thank you, Anastasia. I'd forgotten that you don't drink. And if you're not going to drink, neither will I." It seemed rude to be the only one drinking wine in an otherwise sober environment. I wasn't sure as to her reasoning for not drinking, and if she were a recovering alcoholic, I imagined it would be like rubbing salt in an open wound.

"Oh, I don't mind. Most people drink around me. It doesn't bother me. I just choose not to. But, please do sit down, Christian." She gestured towards the dining room table where she'd lain a spread of various appetizers. The woman could cook. That was a very good thing. "Water? Iced tea? Lemonade? Milk?" she asked, rattling off every drink she likely had in the refrigerator.

"Anastasia," I called to her, letting her hear how I caress her name with my voice. "Calm down. It's just dinner." I reached out to her, hesitating before stroking her cheek with my finger. I remembered that she was okay with that kind of contact. "Water will be fine, thank you." She blushed again, turning away from me and heading towards the refrigerator to pour the glasses from the in-fridge dispenser.

On the table was an assortment of cheeses, gourmet crackers, freshly baked French bread cut thinly, bruschetta, pesto and fresh mozzarella cheese. "Do you like bruschetta?" she asked as she selected a slice of bread and spread the pesto on it. I nodded enthusiastically, mimicking her actions. She gave me a megawatt smile, and then dolloped some mozzarella cheese on the bread, spreading it around like the pesto, then topped it with a bit of the bruschetta mix.

I watched in rapt attention as she bit into the bread, licking her lips where a bit of pesto escaped her mouth. Oh how I wanted to use my own tongue to lick her lips. Would she ever allow me to do that?

After some more light conversation, a few more slices of bread and some cheese and crackers, she retreated to the kitchen to retrieve our meal. She returned, having removed the apron and carrying a casserole dish that had a mouthwatering aroma wafting from it.

"Tortellini Bolognese a la Anastasia," she quipped, setting the dish down on the table. She dashed away again, only to return with a basket of piping hot garlic rolls. They smelled divine. In her other hand was a small dish filled with shredded cheese. "Parmesan, asiago and romano. Freshly grated, good Sir." She was joking, but she had no idea the effect she had on me when she used the word, _Sir._ If I had my way, she'd use that word a lot. Though I did like it when she called me by my given name. I'd never liked that before by anyone other than family and Flynn.

"This all looks simply wonderful," I told her. "I can't believe you made such a meal on such short notice." She bit her lip. Oh dear god, how did I not notice that before? I wanted to bite that lip.

"Well, cooking is my true passion. Being a CEO just pays the bills. I had most of this already made up. The pasta I made on Sunday, and the sauce didn't take too long. The pesto was pre-made as well." She smiled fondly at me.

I scooped a hearty helping on to my plate and took two rolls from her offered basket. "May I fill your plate?" I asked, still holding on to the serving spoon.

"Yes, please," she replied, holding up her plate, her teeth sliding over her lip again. I tried to ignore it and dip the spoon into the entrée. I dished a generous helping on her plate, eyeing her carefully to see if she tried to protest to the amount. One thing I couldn't stand was a woman who ate less around a man because she felt she had to. "That's perfect, thank you," she said, placing her plate back in front of her. She buttered two rolls and dug in, enthusiastically.

I picked up a forkful of the pasta and popped it into my mouth. Instantly, I was hit with a plethora of sensations. The flavors exploded in my mouth. Creamy, savory, spicy and warmth, all in the same bite. She had a gift. "Ana, this is amazing," I told her. "You could open a restaurant."

"With one bite of one dish, you're telling me I could open a restaurant?" she replied. "No, but thank you. I do pride myself on my recipes. I'm very glad you're enjoying it. And you called me Ana."

"That's your name," I replied.

"Yes, but you usually call me Anastasia or Miss Steele. Not that I'm complaining. I prefer Ana, most of the time."

"Most of the time?" I asked, pressing for more information. Come on, baby, be honest with me.

She hesitated before responding. "Well, when you call me Anastasia… the way you say it. Um, it kind of sends tingles down my spine. It's very… pleasant. You say it beautifully." She turned red as the Bolognese and bit her lip again. I wanted so to lean over and take her lip between my own teeth.

"You have a beautiful name," I replied. "And a beautiful name deserves to be said beautifully. And in the spirit of sharing, I like the way you say my name, too. Not many people call me Christian. Because I don't let them. But I'm glad you do. You also say it beautifully."

We ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, occasionally chipping in information about our days. I could tell that we were both avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room… Dr. Flynn. The topic would have to be breached sooner or later, so I decided to approach it gently over dessert, which was a chocolate soufflé with a peanut butter caramel sauce. Good god this woman was amazing. She carried the tray of soufflés into her living room, setting them carefully on the coffee table. "If you keep feeding me like this, I'll have to double my time with my trainer every day." I sat on the overstuffed leather sofa, which by some miracle was more comfortable that the one at Flynn's office. I dug into the soufflé, which had risen perfectly and was full of hot, gooey deliciousness inside the dish. Simply divine.

"So, I figured we should talk about this sooner than later," she said, starting the conversation off for me. "It appears that we are both patients of Dr. John Flynn. I'm fine with this, considering he isn't allowed to disclose information about us to the other person, but I wanted to see how you felt about it."

"I'll admit, I was shocked to see you there," I told her. "Though it made sense of his reaction when I said your name during our session." That piqued her interest. "He asked the name of the girl that had captivated me so thoroughly." She blushed at my words. "Your blush is beautiful," I said, reaching over to caress her cheek. She flinched slightly, but didn't stop me.

"Doctor Flynn said I should be upfront, forthcoming and honest with you," she said.

"He said about the same to me," I replied. "Given the fact that we're both seeing a therapist, I imagine we both have issues of one sort or another. Would you like to go first? Or shall I?"

"Um, we're just going to throw it all out there? Now? I mean, isn't this more like a fourth or fifth date type conversation?" she asked. I chuckled.

"Normally, I suppose two people wouldn't start pouring their souls out on a first date, but you and I are far from normal. Your parents mentioned to me the other night, when they discovered you'd been drafted into the dance auction, that you do not like to be touched. They were worried about how that would play out. I assured them that I'd take care of it. I knew exactly what to do, because I don't like to be touched either." There, I'd put it out there. I started it. I hoped she'd continue it.

"I can't stand being touched," she whispered. "It terrifies, angers, and hurts me all at the same time." Her words echo my feelings on the subject, exactly. "When I literally fell into your arms earlier that night, I all but had a panic attack. I had to quash my memories away and deal with the present. I knew you weren't touching me on purpose, which was why I had to stop my reaction from getting worse. I simply fell, you caught me, and that was it. But it takes my mind a while to wrap my head around that. Despite having many more years with a loving family and a happy life than I had negative ones, those first few years are ingrained in my memory so deeply. Add that to the fact that I have eidetic memory… I can't forget, even if I try."

"Believe it or not, I know exactly what you mean," I added. "I don't have the perfect recall that you do, but my… upbringing… before Grace and Carrick adopted me was nothing short of pure hell. Apart from Flynn, no one knows the extent of what happened to me."

"Same here," she responded. "I've never told anyone. My parents suspect what happened. Kate knows some details, but overall, I bottle it all up until Flynn coaxes it out of me. I swear that man has a gift for getting the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

I smiled in agreement. "So um, what happened to you as a child?" I ask, curiously. Fully intending to give back as much information as she gives me.

"Well, to make a long story short, my biological mother was unfit to raise us. She was a drug addict, an alcoholic, and a really not very nice person. Much less the company she kept. Mostly she neglected us, but that wasn't half as bad as what she did when she did pay attention."

I urge her to continue, finding the parallels to my own childhood rather disarming. "I never had a bed," she continued. "I slept in a crib always. Even when I got to be too big for it, I slept in a crib. Ethan slept in a dresser drawer. I think maybe my mother wanted me at first, as my bedroom was painted nice, like a lovely nursery for a baby, nice clothes and toys, but then her addictions worsened and she stopped caring about me, and only about how to get her next fix.

"She had men in and out of the house at all hours of the day. I'd be locked in the bedroom, stuck in my crib for the duration. No matter how hard I cried, she'd never come to my aid except to beat me and yell at me. Sometimes, when she had a trick over, her pimp would come in the room and beat me, and hold his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. He'd say I was distracting the clientele.

"There was hardly ever any food in the house. As soon as I was big enough to walk, I took to the backyards, digging through trash, trying to find food. I guess I was remarkably resourceful for so young. I was acting on basic survival instincts though.

"It was worse when Ethan came along. She didn't want him; that much was obvious. She no longer wanted me, though, like I said, I think she did in the very beginning. Ethan didn't even have a name. She called me Annie-girl, when she wasn't calling me a little shit or something else. I don't know why she kept us. It would have been so much easier for her to just drop us off at a hospital or even throw us away. Not that I want to die or anything. Flynn had a field day with that comment. It's just _anything_ would have been better than that. Even death.

"Then she got pregnant a third time. Honestly, birth control isn't that expensive. She took enough pills every day to kill a horse; I don't know why she couldn't throw that one in the mix. I think she had a moment of clarity the day Kate was born. She saw what a mess her life was, how horrible she was to her children, and how she couldn't do it on her own anymore.

"I delivered Kate myself, cutting the umbilical cord with the scissors from the knife block. My mother then used that same pair of scissors to slit her wrists and take her own life. We were found by the cops a few hours later due to all the crying and screaming. And within a few weeks, The Steeles adopted us. It's a wonder that the lot of us don't have some horrid syndromes or something. I'm sure she was high as a kite through all three pregnancies. Ethan had a bit of a stutter as a kid and some attention deficit issues, but he turned out fine. Kate never had any issues."

I could tell she was holding something back. There was something she left out, but I didn't want to press for more information. She'd already given so much.

"I'm so sorry, Ana," I told her, reaching over to take her hands in mine. I kept my eyes trained on hers, unwilling to look at the scars that I knew were exposed due her sleeves riding up. "And I'm sad to say my childhood was rather similar." She gestured for me to continue.

"My biological mother was a crack-whore. She neglected me, let her boyfriends, tricks, and pimps beat me, and eventually she overdosed on drugs, and died. I wasn't found until four days later, when her pimp showed up, kicked me across the room and then left. The police arrived shortly thereafter. Grace was the one who examined me at the hospital, and a month later, I went home with her."

My story was a lot shorter than hers, but then I had far fewer memories of that time in my life. "Oh Christian," Anastasia cooed. She pulled one of her hands from mine and reached up to my face, caressing my cheek and my jaw. I never let my subs touch me like this, but with her, I liked it. "Aren't we a pair?"

"Indeed, Miss Steele. So where does that leave us? Neither of us can stand to be touched. How do we create any kind of relationship from that?"

"I think we'll just have to take it slow," she replied. "We'll have to see what limits we each have and how to go about going beyond those limits." Then she laughed. "I have to admit, if someone had told me that if I tripped on a spilled drink one day, and it would lead to discussing ways to get past my afflictions by having a relationship with a man the next day, I'd have had them committed."

"Fair point well made, Miss Steele," I said. "My past relationships have been, rather different. So I don't have a basis of comparison."

"How so?" she asked. Oh dear, here came the difficult part.

"Um, how about we save that for Friday?" I suggest, evading the topic. "We can have dinner at my place and discuss our um, options. Does that work for you?"

"Yes, that'll be fine. And we'll keep in touch until then?" she asked, hope in her eyes.

"Every day, Anastasia," I promised, bringing her hand up to my lips for a kiss. Again I ignored the scar on her hand. I knew that if I looked at it, I wouldn't be able to keep myself from asking about it.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Oh my, it's getting late. I have a breakfast meeting in the morning. Um, shall I show you out?" she asked.

"Yes, that's fine," I replied. "I have an early meeting as well. This evening has been exceptional, Anastasia. Even with the conversation, I can't imagine anyone else that I'd have rather spent my time with tonight." She blushed and smiled as she stood up and led me to the front door.

We stood in front of it awkwardly for a moment before I finally broke the silence. "Anastasia, may I kiss you goodnight?" I asked quietly.

She gazed up at me, curiosity, fear and desire flitting through her eyes. Then she bit her lip and nodded. I stepped towards her, placed my fingers on her chin, releasing her lip from between her teeth and leaned in ever so slowly, my intent clear. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she drank me in. Then closing my eyes just before, I pressed my lips to hers.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ana PoV

He was kissing me! His lips were on mine; his body mere inches away and I wasn't freaking out. After a second or two I kissed back, pressing my lips back against his, leaning forward slightly. I was thankful that my heels made me almost eye-level with him. My hand found his free one and I intertwined my fingers with his. I parted my lips slightly, inviting him in.

His tongue snuck out, licking my bottom lip before entering my mouth. He moaned as our tongues found each other. I had no idea if I was doing this right, but I'd seen enough movies, and Christian seemed to like it. Part of me wanted to press my whole body against his, but the stronger part was terrified to do so.

After a few minutes of the blissful paradise, he pulled away, panting heavily. "We'd better stop before I cross a line," he whispered, resting his forehead against mine. His thumb stroked along my jaw. Oh, so his desire was piqued, too. Good. "Goodnight Anastasia." He kissed me chastely, then kissed my forehead. I blinked, and he was gone.

I stood in the foyer in a daze. He was like a drug and I wanted more. A lot more.

My first kiss. Holy shit! My first kiss! It might be a bit sad that I didn't have my first kiss until I was 26, but for the most part, I was terrified of any kind of intimacy or affection. I'd let Christian touch me more than I'd ever let anyone in my life. I wasn't afraid when he was near. Perhaps it was because I knew he felt the same way as me, so he knew to be very gentle and careful with me. But then again, I felt that way before I knew he was like me.

My head was swimming with a million different sensations. One of them was most definitely lust and desire. Without a doubt, I knew what those felt like now. I also felt an overwhelming sadness for the little boy that was raised in almost the same kind of household as me. Crack vs. Heroine and Meth. But both whores. Both with abusive boyfriends and pimps. Both who neglected us to the point of severe malnourishment. Both who committed suicide.

Christian Grey and I were cut from the same cloth. But where he channeled his feelings into control and anger, I was just afraid of everything. Sure, I'd come out of my shell on some things. I was no longer a total hermit; I ventured out and did fun things like biking, skiing, hiking, and the like. But as far as human interaction, I kept myself in a bubble, never letting anyone close to me. Christian was similar, only I went to the extreme of not even letting anyone physically close to me. He did, but emotionally, he was as closed off as I was.

This was our chance to fix that aspect of ourselves. We needed to be one hundred percent honest with each other if anything had any hope of working between us. Flynn was right. This was not only an opportunity to fix my own issues, and possibly find love; I could help fix Christian, too. We were broken, for far too long, and I believed that we both had finally found that one piece that would finish the puzzle.

At least, that was what I hoped would happen. Hopes and reality were not mutually inclusive.

As I stood in the foyer, Kate barreled in the house, on a rampage. "Whoa, Kate. Where's the fire?" I asked.

"Elliot Grey is a dead man," she hissed.

"What? Why? What did he do?"

"He neglected to inform me that he has a girlfriend! He was all over me the other night, has been sending me sexy and lovey-dovey text messages all weekend and all day today. And then what happens? I happen to see him out at dinner with a leggy brunette. I corner her in the bathroom and she says she's his girlfriend. What the hell?"

"Did you talk to Elliot about it?" I asked.

"No, and I won't." God she was so young sometimes. Usually she acts way older than her 21 years, but sometimes, her youth shows.

"Kate, I know I have a very limited amount of knowledge when it comes to dating, but I think you shouldn't take some random bimbo's words so seriously. She might have seen you as competition and lied. Women lie. A lot. If I were you, I'd ask Elliot about it. Try not to come off as pissed off and jealous. But mention that you saw him at the restaurant. If he volunteers that he was there with a woman, then it's more likely that she's a friend or business colleague. If he gets all evasive, then she's probably more than that."

"Y'know Ana. For someone who has zero experience with the male of the species, you certainly can figure them out," she replied. I blushed. "Why are you blushing?"

"Um, I wouldn't say zero experience," I said to my shoes.

"What? Who? When? Where? What happened?" she demanded. As she looked past me into the kitchen, she saw the two place settings from dinner. Then she turned her head towards the living room and saw the two dishes from the soufflés. "Who did you have over? Ana! Tell me!"

"Christian Grey," I whispered.

"What?! I thought you weren't going out until Friday."

"That is still the plan, but we decided to have an impromptu dinner here tonight. We ate, we chatted, we kissed, and then he left."

"You kissed?! What? That was your first kiss, right? Holy shit, Ana! Tell me everything!" She grabbed my hands and began dancing around the foyer. I concentrated on not falling down.

"Well, I have no basis for comparison, but if a kiss makes you tingle all over and go weak in the knees, I assume it's a good one."

"Oh god yes," Kate agreed. "So you're going out again on Friday? Did he pick a restaurant?"

"No, we're having dinner at his place," I replied.

"Wow, Ana. I can't believe you're finally entering the dating game. And with one of the hottest guys on the planet. You be careful though. He might be a player or something. Though Elliot seemed to think he was gay. I guess he's never had a girlfriend. Not that the family has known about anyway."

"He's very private with his relationships," I say, defending Christian. "Truth be told, he and I have a lot in common."

"Like what?" she asked, always a glutton for information.

"Like we share a mutual desire to keep our lives private, little sister," I admonished. "It's late. I'm going to bed." I walked away without another word, hoping she'd leave the subject be. At least until I figured things out with him. I hoped our dinner on Friday would clear the air. Kate strode off towards her room, already dialing Elliot's number on the way. I hope she worked it out with him; I knew how much she liked him. Hell, she pined for him for years.

Just as I slipped into bed, I heard my phone buzz with an incoming message. Christian's name lit up on the screen, making me smile instantly.

* * *

Christian PoV

The shock subsided and rage filtered its way in, as I drove home to Escala. How could anyone do that to my beautiful Anastasia? I knew she had the scars on her wrists from something. I listened to her words, absorbing them, but not reacting to them right away. The moment she said her mother beat her, I was instantly glad the woman was dead. No child deserved that kind of treatment, least of all my Ana. I was already referring to her as mine, though she hadn't signed any contract that made her so. Perhaps there wouldn't even be a contract.

What a novel thought. Christian Grey, Dom extraordinaire having a normal relationship. Dinners and dates and the like. Flynn was going to go ape shit over this. Not to mention how my parents would react.

As I drove, I dialed Welch, my security officer.

"Welch," he answered.

"Welch, it's Grey. I need you to find some information for me," I told him.

"Sure boss, what do you need?"

"Anything you can find on Anastasia Steele. CEO of Steele Designs," I reply.

"Hostile takeover, sir?" he jokes.

"Nothing like that. I'm just trying to figure her out. If you can find any specific information about her birth parents, that'd be most helpful. She was adopted at the age of five, along with her younger brother and sister. Her mother killed herself shortly after giving birth to her sister. Any information you can find, Welch."

"Sure thing, boss. I'm on it." I hung up the phone, knowing he'd scour the globe for any shred of information.

I was determined to find every last one of her birth mother's tricks, boyfriends, and pimps and ensure they all were rotting away in prison or in hell.

Once I reached home, I texted my Anastasia from the elevator.

 **I'm home now. Thought you'd like to know. And that kiss was… something else.**

Almost immediately there was a reply.

 **Agreed, Mr. Grey. "Something else" doesn't begin to describe it. I'm tingly all over.**

 **I'm all tucked in to bed now.**

Oh how jealous I was of her bedding.

 **Sounds lovely. I'll be doing the same shortly. I had a wonderful evening, Anastasia. I can't wait to get to know you better, and see you this Friday night. It seems so far away.**

Again, her reply was instantaneous.

 **Perhaps we can do lunch or something before then? Like on Wednesday?**

She was a genius.

 **Yes, that's a fantastic idea. I'll look at my schedule and let you know what time works. Goodnight my sweet Anastasia.**

Finally, Wednesday arrived and I was meeting Anastasia at a delicatessen that lied between her work and mine. It was a short walk for the both of us. With it being such a lovely day, I decided to leave a few minutes early and meet her at the Steele building, so we could walk together. Once I reached the outside, it appeared that she had a similar idea, as she was less than half a block away.

She looked ravishing in a twirly brown skirt with a turquoise blouse. Over it she wore a brown cardigan that had accents around the collar of what I imagined were real turquoise beads. Her shoes were brown leather, also with the turquoise stones embedded into them. Her hair was in a low pony tail, secured on the side of her neck, her long locks draping over one shoulder and curling just above her breast. The whole outfit had to be custom designed. I watched as the wind would slightly pick up, lifting her skirt, a la Marilyn Monroe in Seven Year Itch, allowing me to see more of her creamy thighs. Not enough wind to make her need to hold her skirt down, but just enough to give me a glimpse.

"Hi," she murmured, blushing.

"Hello, Miss Steele," I greeted, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. She then stepped toward me, leaned up and kissed my cheek. The sensation spread all over my body. I'd never let a woman do that before her. And I liked it. A lot. "You look lovely. Is this a custom made outfit?" I asked.

"Yes, Kate made it for me. I love these two colors together, so she went to town."

"I'll have to pass my compliments onto her, then. The turquoise brings out the lovely shades in your hair and your eyes." Her icy blue eyes almost changed to turquoise next to the stones. I reached up and grasped a strand of her hair that had worked its way free of her pony tail, and tucked it behind her ear. She blushed furiously.

"Looks like we had a similar thought, with walking together, eh? I over estimated on how long it would take me to walk here. I'm usually slower in heels, but these aren't very high," she rambled. I glanced down at her shoes, noting the three inch heels in place of her five inchers from a couple nights before.

"Don't your shoes make your feet hurt to walk such a distance?" I asked. Women complained all the time about how painful high heels were. The higher the worse, apparently. I appreciated heels, so I never suggested they not wear them. I just loved what they did to a woman's legs and ass. Not that Anastasia needed any help in either department, but they certainly didn't hurt anything.

She shrugged. "Not as bad as other things do." I couldn't disagree with her there. Some pains were so horrible, you learn to compare every other kind of hurt to them, and find you can endure things that would make most people cringe and cry.

I took her hand in mine and together we walked towards the deli. She prattled on about her latest client, and what a pain in the ass she was being. "First she wants all hardwood, then she wants repurposed wood, then she wants carpet, then she wants concrete painted to look like wood. The woman can't make up her mind, and I can't keep ordering custom supplies only to send them back. I'm about to take her over my knee."

I choked on the air I was breathing. "What did you say?"

"About taking her over my knee? Well, she's acting like a petulant demanding child. And isn't spanking the best way to deal with that? I mean honestly, the woman needs something like that." I shook my head, smiling at her. How did she always know what to say to surprise me?

I think of what I'd like to do to Anastasia in my playroom, involving taking her over my knee. Then I dismiss the thought. We were nowhere near that point in our relationship. If we ever did get there. I doubted she'd like being spanked. Yet anyway.

At last we reached the deli, and I held the door open for her. She thanked me shyly and headed in, her eyes darting to the vast menu board. It was one of those places where you ordered at the counter, took a number on a stand, and they brought your food out a few minutes later.

"Oh, god, I want one of everything," she said, licking her lips. I wanted to lick her lips. "It all looks and smells so good." She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath through her nose, moaning as she smelled everything. The sight and sound made my pants tighten.

"I'm glad you have a hearty appetite," I told her, pulling my eyes away from her luscious lips and back to her beautiful blue eyes.

"I know what it's like to be deathly hungry," she replied, shrugging. "I imagine you do, too. It makes you look at food in a completely different way." Once again, she'd taken the thoughts right out of my head.

"My thoughts exactly. What would you like?" I asked, gesturing to the menu board. "You could get one of everything, though I don't know where you'd put it." I gazed at her slender frame, not bothering to hide my ogling. I wanted her to know she was wanted.

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Grey?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at me. "I have an abnormally fast metabolism, so I have to eat a lot. I'm one of those 'she eats whatever she wants and stays skinny' people. My college friends hated that about me. While they all gained their freshman fifteen, I stayed the same, and ate more than all of them."

"Yes, women and their body image issues," I muttered. She rolled her eyes at me. Oh I'd like to spank her for that.

"I don't have body image issues," she retorted. "I couldn't care less if I was a size two or twenty-two. As long as I'm healthy and have enough to eat, I'm fine." Oh, I admired that about her. She stepped up to the counter and the young man behind it checked her out, his eyes raking up and down her body. I glared at him, and as soon as he caught a glimpse of me, he quickly looked down at his screen, never looking at Anastasia again.

"I'll have the pastrami on marble rye with Swiss cheese," she began. "And a side of the seasoned waffle fries with ranch dressing. A side salad with French and blue cheese on the side, and one of those peanut butter brownie bars. Christian?" She gestured for me to add my order.

"I'll have the roast turkey Reuben sandwich, with the waffle fries and a salad with thousand island dressing. And a slice of the apple pie," I stated.

"Very well, anything else, sir? Ma'am?" the boy asked. We both shook our heads. "Okay, well your total is thirty-two seventy six." He looked back and forth between the two of us trying to figure out who would pay. I handed him a fifty dollar bill before Anastasia could fish her wallet out of her purse. She scowled at me, but I simply shrugged in return, smirking at her.

The cashier handed me the change which I promptly dropped in the tip jar. Despite him ogling my Anastasia, he took our orders quickly and efficiently. And if I wasn't mistaken, that tip jar was split among all the employees at the deli. I'd be sure to leave another few dollars on the table after we finished.

Anastasia grabbed the stand that displayed our order number and walked away to select a table. There was an empty one towards the back of the deli that was relatively secluded. She sat down, placed the stand at the edge of the table and set up her place setting with the provided napkin and silverware basket.

A few minutes later, the same boy from behind the counter arrived with our food. He placed the plates on the table, ensured we had all we need and retreated back to his post at the register. I noticed that he didn't make eye contact with Anastasia once. Good man. He learned. She was mine.

My Anastasia dug into her salad with fervor, as if she hadn't eaten in days. "Didn't you have breakfast?" I asked. If she said no, I'd be a bit irritated. I wouldn't have her skipping meals.

She blushed, realizing she wasn't being very lady-like with her manners. Not that I cared in the slightest. "Of course I did. Pancakes, eggs, bacon and a big ol' glass of orange juice. Like I said, I have an abnormally fast metabolism, so I have to eat a lot.

"I think we both have the same issues with hunger, so you can trust me when I say I will never ever skip a meal. I did enough of that when I was little, to last a lifetime. That's probably why my metabolism is so ridiculous. It's trying to make up for years of never having enough to eat," she joked. We both knew that wasn't how metabolisms worked.

"About Friday night," I began.

"You're not canceling on me, are you?" she replied, cutting me off.

"Of course not, Anastasia. Let me finish," I scolded. "I was just going to ask what you'd like to eat, and if you like anything other than ice water for a beverage."

"Sweet tea is my favorite, but only if it's made properly," she replied. "I'd be happy to make it myself when I come over. So few people know how unless they're from the south."

"Are you from the south?" I asked. Welch still hadn't gotten all the info I requested. Apparently it was under lots of layers he had to sift through.

"Yes, North Carolina," she replied. "The Steeles adopted us from there, and we lived there for a few years before moving to Seattle for my dad's job."

"And the rest is history?" I added.

"As they say," she quipped, making me chuckle.

We both dug into our food then, and didn't take time for conversation as we ate. Surprisingly, she cleaned her plate before I did, and was biting into her peanut butter brownie as if it was made of gold. A bit of chocolate stuck on the corner of her mouth, and I watched as her tongue darted out to get it. Oh the wonderful things I bet she could do with that tongue.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to accommodate my pants getting impossibly tighter. I was responding to her like a horny school boy, and I didn't even care. She was pure sexy, and she didn't even realize it.

Shortly thereafter, I walked her back to Steele Designs, planted a chaste kiss on her lips and promised to see her two days later.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Anastasia PoV

"Seattle's most eligible bachelor and bachelorette seen on the town together," read the headline of the tabloid I happened to walk past the next morning. On the front page was a photo of Christian and myself arm in arm as we walked to lunch together. There were other photos within the article of him kissing my hand, me kissing his cheek, and him kissing me goodbye outside Steele Designs. I snatched it from the stand, threw a twenty at the guy and ran towards my office. "Thank you for your patronage, Ms. Steele!" the man yelled as I passed.

On the way up to my office, I opened the magazine and paged to the article about me and Christian. I couldn't believe after only being seen in public together one time, there was already a tabloid article about us. Was Christian really that influential in Seattle? Was I?

 _Can it be true? The long single Christian Grey has landed himself an equally reclusive high-profile mate in Anastasia Steele? Both multi-millionaires under thirty, both devastatingly attractive, it looks like a match made in heaven._

 _The duo was seen strolling through the streets of Seattle on a rendezvous for lunch. They stopped at a local delicatessen where a witness reports they were seen laughing and chatting together, enjoying each other's company, and the local fare. Then, Grey escorted Steele back to her building, kissed her goodbye, and walked back to Grey Enterprise Holdings._

 _In a thorough search, neither Grey nor Steele have ever been seen out with a date. Is there love in the air? We think so. Our witness told us that Anastasia gazed at Grey with such adoration and he regarded her as if she were the most precious thing on the planet._

 _Our fingers are crossed that wedding bells will be in the air for this perfect couple before long!_

"Ana!" Kate bellowed as she barged into my office later that morning "Have you read this?" she demanded, holding up a copy of the very tabloid I'd been reading. I held up my own copy and her posture relaxed. "Okay, so what do you think of it?"

"I'm more interested in what Christian will think of it," I replied. "I didn't even know we were being photographed. I didn't even know I was interesting enough to follow. I guess they were following Christian and happened upon me by sheer luck." I decided that I didn't like the article. "I feel violated, Kate. You know how I hate attention, and this is far, far too much of it. What gives these people the right to follow us around and make assumptions based on how we look at each other?"

Like magic, my phone buzzed an incoming message.

 **Good Morning, Miss Steele. How are you today?**

I expected him to ask about the magazine. Perhaps he hadn't read it yet. Or didn't know about it yet.

 **I'd be better if my face wasn't plastered all over the Seattle Tabloids.**

His response was immediate.

 **What?!**

Oh, I could tell he was angry. Good, so was I.

 **I walked past a news stand on the way to Steele today, and a headline caught my attention. "Seattle's most eligible bachelor and bachelorette seen on the town together." And it had a photo of the two of us from yesterday.**

His reply took a few minutes. I figured that he was acquiring a copy and reading the article.

 **Well, they certainly have us painted as the perfect couple. How do you feel about it?**

I had to organize my thoughts. I was still so angry about it, and I knew it wasn't his fault we were followed, but I couldn't shake the idea that if I had been out with any other man aside from him, I wouldn't have caught anyone's attention.

 **Shock and anger are the first two reactions. I'll let you know as they progress.**

A moment later, his reply came.

 **I'll take care of it.**

What the hell did he mean by that?

 **What do you mean?**

My mind reeled with possibilities of how he was going to "take care of it." None of my theories made any sense though. Again, his reply took a few minutes.

 **I'm a major shareholder of that magazine. They're officially bankrupt.**

What? He did _what_? Captain overreaction, much?

 **Why on earth would you do that? It was one article; they didn't lay out all of our skeletons, just one measly little story about a lunch date. No real harm was done other than the public being aware of our relationship, or whatever this is. Why, did you want to keep me a secret? Are you ashamed of me?**

I sat there panting, hyperventilating, close to passing out as I waited for his reply. Instead of a text message, my phone rang with his incoming call.

"Hello?" I answered, shyly.

"I'm not ashamed of you, Anastasia," he replied. He sounded angry. "Why would you think that? I'd love nothing more than to shout from a mountain that we're together. But I wanted it to be on our terms, not some tabloid looking to make a few bucks on a half-assed story."

Oh, that was news.

"Okay," I replied, not having a clue what to say. "So, will word get out that you took your reaction to the story to the extreme by bankrupting that company? Or will that be kept under wraps?" I asked.

"I'm sure it'll get out sooner or later, though I have my PR people working on that as we speak. They're not very happy with me right now. They said that having my bachelor image changed into 'taken' could be good for me. Apparently the public wants to see me settled down or something."

"I'm not overly thrilled with your reaction, either," I told him. "I can't say what the public thinks about me, as I've no clue aside from today's article."

"Believe me," he replied. "They like you. A lot. Now that they're aware that you're dating, men from all over will be knocking down your door."

"Doubtful," I disagreed. "But I appreciate the compliment. Listen, Christian, I've got to get back to work. I'll speak with you later?"

"Of course, Ana. Have a lovely day,"

"You as well. Goodbye Christian."

I hung up the phone, feeling strangely jubilant and heavy hearted at the same time. It was an odd sensation. Christian had no idea why men were never knocking down my door. Or if they were, why I had never answered it. I debated back and forth over when I should divulge my full history to him, or if I even should.

Granted, he was a man. He was bound to want to go beyond kissing with me. He was going to want to touch me in places I'd never even touched myself. Would I be willing to go past my boundaries with him? Would I even be able to?

* * *

Christian PoV

There was even more to Anastasia Steele than I originally thought. She still had a terrible self-image, and all I wanted to do was spank it out of her then fuck her thoroughly. But she was inexperienced. That much I could tell. Her shyness when I kissed her, the way she blushed every time I gazed at her. I had no idea what kind of men she'd dated in the past, but it was obvious that none of them treated her like the queen she was.

As I finished up my business with that decrepit magazine, Welch popped into my office, a manila envelope in tow. "The information you requested, sir," he said, setting the folder on my desk. I thanked him and set about reading the information.

The first document in the envelope was a background check.

NAME: Anastasia Rose Steele

DOB: Sept 10, 1986, Charlotte, NC

Address: 12579 Blakely Pl NW

Seattle, WA

Mobile No: 360-959-4352

SSN: 987-65-4320

Occupation: CEO and Owner of Steele Designs 2010-present.

Education: MBA, Stanford University class of 2010 GPA: 4.0

Masters of Architecture, class of 2009 GPA 4.0

Bachelors of Science, Architecture and Design, class of 2007 GPA 4.0

Father: (a)Raymond Martin Steele: DOB Sept 1, 1963

Mother: (a)Miranda Rose Steele: DOB July 18, 1967

Biological

Mother: Rebecca Louis DOB August 19, 1972, deceased May 21, 1992, suicide.

Biological

Father: not known

Siblings: Katherine Lily Steele DOB May 21, 1992

Ethan Davis Steele, DOB Mar 3, 1988

Political

Affiliations: none found

Religious

Affiliations: Atheist

Sexual

Orientation: not known

Relationships: none indicated at present

Well that last part would be different after having read that blasted tabloid story. Though I wondered if she'd ever had a boyfriend before. She seemed so shy around men, not as much around me, though. Even when I indicated that men were lining up to dance with her at the benefit, or that they'd be lining up around the block, she acted like it was a preposterous notion.

It didn't surprise me that she had excellent GPA across all of her education. She was remarkably intelligent. After knowing how she felt about the article, though, I had to wonder how she'd react to knowing I had a background check done on her. She probably wouldn't be pleased.

I realized that for the first time, I actually felt guilty about it. I'd had countless background checks done for employees and submissives alike. Anastasia wasn't my submissive. I had a large doubt that she ever would be, despite my desires to the contrary. It may be to my benefit to not let her know that I'd had this done.

I moved beyond the background check to the "additional information" that Welch was able to dig up. The next document was a newspaper article, written a few days after she was found with her siblings.

 _Three young children found near death in their apartment._

 _Officers responded to a call from a concerned citizen who could hear crying and screaming coming from a nearby apartment. The caller said they'd heard crying before, but knew the young woman who lived there had small children, so they hadn't worried about it. But this crying was on a different level. "The little girl sounded like she was being tortured," the caller said. "I knew I had to call the police just to look in on things. I had no idea what they'd find."_

 _Detective Garland was the first on the scene. She knocked on the door, which promptly fell off its hinges and into the apartment. On the table in the kitchen lay the mother of the three children, lying in a pool of her own blood. "It appeared as though she'd just given birth; given the way she was laying on the table, and the newborn baby crying in the little boy's arms." Garland also found that the young woman had slit her wrists with a pair of scissors and bled out. In the corner of the room were the three children. A young girl who looked no older than three or four, her toddler brother and a newborn._

 _Garland reported that the girl shrank away from her when she tried to reach out. "She was cowering in fear, and covered in blood. She was barely conscious, but had enough energy to show her fear." EMTs arrived on the scene moments later; carrying away the children after the police took extensive photographs of the scene and the children._

 _It was evident that the children had been left alone with their mother's dead body for a number of days. No food in the house, little clothing, and no way to sustain themselves. "It was one of the saddest and most grotesque things I'd ever seen. I don't know how the neighbors in that building weren't aware of the horrors that had gone on in that home," Garland said when interviewed after the initial investigation was over._

 _"_ _The little girl saw the worst of it," she continued. "She had bruises, cuts and scars all over her body. She'd been severely beaten, abused, and neglected. She was so malnourished that we initially misjudged her age. She was actually closer to six years old, when I'd thought she was just over three. Her younger brother was four years old, and the baby born presumably on the date the mother committed suicide. If the neighbor hadn't called when she did, these children would have been dead within hours._

 _"_ _The only good thing that will come from this is that the children will be placed in a loving home. We already have a couple who are willing to adopt all three children, ensuring they can stay together."_

 _So there is a silver lining over every cloud, no matter how dark said cloud is._

I balked at the article. Anastasia had described that day in relative detail, but reading it from another perspective made my blood boil all over again. The next page in the folder was a medical examiner's report. How Welch got his hands on this, I hadn't a clue, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 _ME Report May 21, 1992._

 _Jane Doe, Age unknown, 3-5 guessed._

 _Girl has severe bruising covering 90% of her body, deep gashes across her back and abdomen. Scarring around her wrists and ankles suggest prolonged restraint with ropes or other implements. Further examination reveals sexual assault._

I closed the folder at that moment, unwilling to keep reading. Sexual assault at the age of five? I knew that was the piece of information she'd held back during our talk on Monday night. And I understood why she'd kept that to herself. It would take a lot of trust for her to be willing to divulge that to me.

At last Friday arrived, and Anastasia was slated to show up at promptly seven pm. Mrs. Jones had made a delicious chicken pasta dish with both cream sauce and red sauce. The garlic bread toasting in the oven filled the rooms with a savory aroma that made my mouth water.

Finally, I heard the tell-tale ding of the elevator, and Anastasia stepped out of the door with Taylor in tow. I thanked him for escorting her up. "Good evening," I said to her, taking her hand in mine and kissing it chastely. She seemed to like that a lot as her cheeks reddened and her eyes widened every time.

"Hello," she replied. "What a lovely home."

"Thank you," I said. "Shall I give you a tour?" It would be a limited tour. I wasn't ready to show her certain rooms yet.

I led her through the foyer and into the kitchen area. As she stepped in front of me, I took the time to gaze over her form. Her hair was braided across the back of her head, in what my sister called a waterfall braid. It then fell down her back in loose waves, a chestnut and mahogany cascade of beauty. She was wearing a black dress that hugged her everywhere. This would be one of those "little black dresses" that every woman was supposed to own. The dress was sleeveless, showing off her creamy skin down to her wrists where she wore thick cuff-like bracelets. Likely covering the scars there.

Her feet were wrapped in sky-scraper Louboutin heels with lace covering her feet and a leopard print fabric covering the back of her heel and they had the signature red bottoms that so many women coveted. I briefly wondered if she could afford to dress herself so well, what on earth I would give her. One of the few things that kept my submissives around, aside from the sex was that I liked to shower them with extravagant gifts. None of them were used to such splendor, so it kept them wanting more. Anastasia wouldn't be that way, I was certain.

Not only did she not give off a materialistic vibe, she was more than capable of showering herself with nice clothes, shoes and cars.

"So, um, this is the kitchen," I began, as she took in the scene. "Mrs. Jones, this is Anastasia Steele, Miss Steele, my excellent housekeeper and gourmet chef, Mrs. Jones." I introduced the ladies, hoping they'd be seeing a lot more of each other.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Jones," Anastasia said. "Whatever you're cooking smells simply divine." She took a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes and moaning slightly at the aroma.

"Thank you, Miss Steele. How wonderful to meet you, too." I led Anastasia away from the kitchen, through the dining room and into the living room.

"What a lovely view," she said, ignoring the furniture and heading towards the balcony. "I could just sit out here all day."

"If you like, I could have dinner served out here," I suggested.

"Really? Oh that would be lovely. Thank you," she replied, graciously. So it was possible to impress her. That made me happy. I showed her the living room, a brief look at my bedroom, the game room, and my study. I left the upstairs completely out of it. "What's on the second floor?" She asked. "More bedrooms?"

I simply nodded in reply. It was more or less the truth, there was a bed in two of the rooms, she just didn't need to know what _else_ there was up there. Not yet, anyway.

"Do you play?" she asked as we passed back through the living room and near my piano.

"Yes," I replied. "Would you like me to play something?" She nodded enthusiastically. I led her to the piano bench and sat her down next to me. I began a piece by Bach, one she should recognize if she had any upbringing that involved music.

Her eyes were glued to my hands as I played, mesmerized by the sounds I made. Another thing that impressed her. Good. I tried to remember the last time I played for anyone and came up short. I played for my family here and there, but not very often. I never had played for a submissive, though. Another first. If only Anastasia had a clue of the effect she had on me. How many things had already changed about me, merely due to her presence in my life?

As the song finished, she moved her eyes up to mine. I searched them, finding only wonder and adoration in them. "That was fantastic. Thank you for playing that for me." I reached over and took her hands in mine. This time, she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. I let go of one of her hands to cup her cheek and thread my fingers through her silky hair.

Shyly, her hand reached up to touch my face as well. She mirrored my actions and slid her fingers into my hair, lightly scratching my scalp. I groaned at the feeling and scooted closer to her. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my lap and press her whole body against mine. Realizing my desires, she pulled away from me. "Let's not get carried away," she said.

She stood up and headed towards the kitchen where Mrs. Jones was just setting the table and dishing up our meal. Anastasia took one whiff of the food and her eyes rolled back into her head. "You don't play fair, Mr. Grey," she chided.

"I usually don't," I admitted. "But about what in particular?"

"I cooked for you last time, with only a couple hours' notice. And you've had all week to plan a meal, and have your own personal chef to do it for you. That's hardly fair."

"Your meal was amazing," I told her. "Mrs. Jones would be hard pressed to make a tortellini like yours. No offense, Gail." Mrs. Jones had just set down the pitcher of ice water as I'd made that comment.

"None taken," she replied smirking. "Perhaps Miss Steele and I can trade recipes sometime." Anastasia beamed at her, loving the idea.

We dug into our meals, leaving little space for conversation. I think we were both nervous about what was to come. I'd told her that I'd give her more information about myself, which had me practically shaking in my shoes. No one knew the true depth to that side of me, not even Flynn.

After dessert, which was a lovely caramel cheesecake with chocolate drizzle, I escorted Anastasia to the living room. She sunk into one of the couches and I took a seat next to her. I'd broken all my own rules already. Kissed her without having her sign an NDA and was about to discuss a possible relationship with the woman without first making up a contract. This was a really, really big first for me.

"Okay, so on Monday, I told you I'd give you some more information about my past relationships with women," I began.

"You don't have to tell me anything," she replied. I shook my head.

"On the contrary, I do. For you to fully understand me, I need to talk about this."

"Okay," she said, sliding her feet out of her shoes and tucking them underneath her on the couch. She was getting comfortable, expecting for me to jump into quite a story.

"When I was young, I had a lot of anger issues. I hated everything and everyone, including myself. I got into fights, drank alcohol, was doing poorly in school, and horny as hell." Her eyes widened at that remark. "Sorry, I'm just telling it as I remember. As you may know, being aroused and afraid to let anyone touch you is not a great combination." She nodded her understanding. "I needed money to buy more booze and a family friend hired me to do some yard work at his home. He had a younger wife, she was beautiful, blonde, curvy, everything a fifteen-year old boy would dream of having.

"One day, she brought me a glass of lemonade after I'd been working hard for a few hours. I made a smartass remark about something and she slapped me. No one had ever laid a hand on me like that. Not since before I was adopted anyway. It took me aback, it shocked me, and ironically enough, it aroused me even more. Especially when she kissed me right after slapping me.

"To make a long story short, she taught me how to deal with my anger. How to handle being with a woman physically, and so forth. As a result I'm a Dominant." I waited with baited breath for her reaction.

"A Dominant? As in BDSM type stuff?" she asked. I nodded in reply. "Oh." Her eyes were calm and calculating. But I was waiting for the tempest to begin. "I… I really don't know how to react to that."

"Well, I don't know how much experience you have, but I can promise that we'll go slowly. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, and we can go at your pace."

"Christian, sex terrifies me," she admitted. My eyes went wide. "I've never had sex."

"Wait, you're a virgin?!" I asked, disbelief all over my face.

"Yes, I am. I've been terrified of men my whole life. You're the first and only one I've ever let get remotely close to me, both physically and emotionally. I find myself wanting to be closer, but so scared to do so."

I'm reminded of her sexual assault from when she was five years old. I hadn't read the report further, so I didn't know the extent to which she was attacked. I'd already infringed on her privacy enough by getting the report. "May I ask why you're afraid?"

"I was raped," she replied. Well, that was one way to do it, just rip the bandage right off. I was frozen. A statue. "My mother's boyfriend or pimp or whatever he was blamed me for her killing herself. He raped me and beat me within an inch of my life. If the police hadn't arrived when they did, I'd have been dead soon after, I know it.

"Ever since, any thought of physical affection with a man sends fear through my entire body. It wasn't until you that I had any abatement of that fear. I don't know what it is about you that changes my reaction. We're kindred souls in a way, I guess."

"Oh, Ana. I'm so sorry. I had no idea of that. You mentioned you were beaten and abused by your mother and her boyfriends, but I never in a million years imagined _that_." I was reeling. There was no way she'd ever want to go into my playroom. If she was that terrified of sex, how could she want to do any of that with me?

"I want to try," she said quietly.

"Try what?" I asked her.

"Sex. With you. Tonight," she replied. My mouth dropped open.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Anastasia PoV

"…I'm a Dominant," he told me.

"A Dominant? As in BDSM type stuff?" I asked. He nodded in reply. "Oh." I considered his statement for a moment. "I… I really don't know how to react to that." I'd done a little research on the whole kinky sex thing, it was for a paper. It intrigued me, though the idea of letting someone else have complete control over me was terrifying.

"Well, I don't know how much experience you have, but I can promise that we'll go slowly. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, and we can go at your pace." Go slow? If he went at my pace, we'd never get anywhere. I needed to trust that he wouldn't hurt me, not in any way that I didn't allow at least.

"Christian, sex terrifies me," I admitted. His eyes went wide as saucers. "I've never had sex."

"Wait, you're a virgin?!" he asked, disbelief all over his face.

"Yes, I am. I've been terrified of men my whole life. You're the first and only one I've ever let get remotely close to me, both physically and emotionally. I find myself wanting to be closer, but so scared to do so." I looked away from him as I said it. I didn't want him to turn me away but at the same time, I didn't know how to go past this.

"May I ask why you're afraid?" Oh lord; there was the question of the day. Best to just get out with it.

"I was raped," I replied. He stayed eerily still. "My mother's boyfriend or pimp or whatever he was blamed me for her killing herself. He raped me and beat me within an inch of my life. If the police hadn't arrived when they did, I'd have been dead soon after, I know it.

"Ever since, any thought of physical affection with a man sends fear through my entire body. It wasn't until you that I had any abatement of that fear. I don't know what it is about you that changes my reaction. We're kindred souls in a way, I guess." It was true. I felt safe around him for the first time in my life. I'd never felt safe around a man, not even my dad or my brother. I trusted them, and I knew they would never hurt me, but deep down, I couldn't help the uneasiness I felt when in a room alone with either of them.

"Oh, Ana. I'm so sorry. I had no idea of that. You mentioned you were beaten and abused by your mother and her boyfriends, but I never in a million years imagined _that_." I'd thrown a seriously huge piece of information at him. He had every right to ask me to leave and never come back. Why would he want to be with someone as damaged as me?

Then again, maybe I was exactly what he needed. He said that that woman helped him get through some things, yet he was still in therapy. Doctor Flynn was amazing, but he hadn't helped Christian enough. Perhaps Christian needed to be with someone like himself.

I knew at that moment that I'd never be able to trust myself with sex. I would never go to that step on my own. There was no way I could let him have us move at my own pace. I needed to take the bull by both horns and jump in the deep end, and not look where I leap, and every other cliché I could think of.

"I want to try," I said, barely above a whisper.

"Try what?" he asked me.

"Sex. With you. Tonight," I replied. His mouth hit the floor. "I know that it's a super-fast move, but I know myself, and I trust you. You've handled me perfectly this past week. Keeping distance when you need to, pressing my boundaries at the right times. It's like you can read me like a book. If there's anyone who's going to get me over this hurdle of fear, then it's you.

"We are very similar Christian. Only, when people touch you, you channel it into anger, which you diffuse by being a Dominant. When I'm touched, I channel it into fear, and only fear. And I'm sick of it. I don't feel afraid when I'm with you though. Even when you're so close to me. Kissing me. I'm not afraid. I want more."

"I don't know, Ana. I'm… well I'm not sure that I'm the right man for you to lose your virginity to." His eyes filled with self-doubt. "My playroom is filled with things that would scare you to death. I prefer sex that is rough and nowhere near the gentle, slow lovemaking you'd need."

"Show me," I said, bravely. I was terrified, but wasn't about to let it show. He looked reluctant. "I'm betting it's upstairs," I added, standing up and walking towards the stairs. He shot up and followed me.

"Ana," he said, stopping me before I reached for the door handle of what was likely the playroom. "I don't want to lose you because of this room. I am willing to move slowly. We don't have to do anything that involves any of the items in there. I want you to know that I want to be with you in any capacity you'll have me. Even if we never ever go in this room again."

I merely nodded and waited for him to open the door. He produced a set of keys and unlocked the door. So I wouldn't have gotten it open even if he didn't stop me before grasping the handle. As we entered the room, the scent of leather and citrus wood polish invaded my nose. He flicked on the light switch and I was immediately assaulted with a shocking image.

In front of me was a wall covered in various implements. Chains, whips, floggers, canes, the list went on. On the left wall was a huge bed, bigger than a king size with all kinds of bars built into the canopy. On the wall itself, was a huge cross with shackles hanging down. Bondage. So he liked to tie women up and hit them with these various things. I knew from my research that it wasn't always about pain. Many things could be pleasurable. If you could stand being touched, that is. At the same time there were many people that thrived on giving and receiving pain. I imagined that Christian enjoyed the punishment as much as the pleasure. I couldn't tell if that scared or excited me.

"Please say something," he requested.

"There's a lot here," I said. "I know what most of this is." At his curious expression, I explained. "I wrote a paper about the kink community in college. I had seen a woman dressed completely in leather, towing a man behind her on a leash. At first I wanted to call the authorities, but then I decided not to. The different lifestyle piqued my curiosity, so I chose it for my paper's topic. Throughout my research, I learned a lot about Dom/sub relationships, what each of these implements are, what they do, et cetera."

"Did your research make you curious enough to try any of it?" Christian asked.

"No, not really. I thought about what it would be like to relinquish control like that, but I have major trust issues, and I knew there was no one, at the time, that I'd trust enough to give them that kind of power over me."

"But you trust me?" he queried.

"Implicitly," I replied. "I meant what I said earlier. I don't feel afraid with you. I feel afraid sometimes when my brother and father are around. Even though they never have hurt me, and never ever would, they're men, and I can't help my unease with them. But with you, it's different. I don't know why."

"Why do you see Flynn then?"

"It's all part of my self-counseling. I told myself that if I can get through seeing a male therapist, then I could potentially stand being in the same room as my brother without having a panic attack. So far so good. Ethan and I had dinner together the other night. Kate was out with Elliot. And not once did I have even an increase in pulse the whole time. It was quite a revelation."

"Why the jump into sex already? I mean, we've only known each other a week."

"Christian, did you assume that because I'm terrified of sex that I don't desire it? That I don't desire you?" I asked. He shook his head confused. "Christian, I've wanted to jump your bones since the night I met you."

That was all it took for him to cross the room to me and kiss me furtively. "How can I do this if I can't touch you?" he asked. "I want to touch you everywhere; I want to make your body sing beneath my fingers." My body was singing at his mere words. He didn't need to touch me to get that response.

"I want to let you touch me. I don't want to be afraid anymore. Take me to bed, Christian. Let's see where my limits are."

"Not here," he replied. "Not this room. Let's go to my bedroom."

* * *

Christian PoV

I could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. She wanted to sleep with me. Anastasia Steele, survivor of such gruesome horrors wanted to throw caution to the wind, face all of her fears and get into a bed with me. I was the very kind of monster that made her fears real. Granted, I never took advantage of a woman, never forced anyone into anything, but still, I was aggressive, dominant, dangerous.

But I couldn't deny that I wanted her. Needed her like air. I'd longed to have her body wrapped around me since she fell into my arms.

I took her hand in mine and led her out of the room, locking the door behind us. We descended the stairs to my bedroom and I closed that door behind us as well. "I'm not really sure where to begin," I told her truthfully.

"Well, you're the one with the experience. What would you have your submissives do?"

"If you were my submissive, you'd be in nothing but your panties, kneeling next to the door of my playroom, waiting for me to enter," I replied. "But that's not the case here, and I've been dying to peel that dress off of you since you walked in the door." Her pupils dilated at my words, her breaths increasing.

I slowly stepped towards her, keeping my expression light and curious. Normally I'd feel my face darkening to a more predatory look, but I didn't want to frighten her. "Don't tie me up," she stated.

"What?" I asked, more confused as to why she said that.

"These marks on my hands and feet," she began pointing to the scars on her wrists. "They're from being tied up in my crib. Sometimes for days at a time. I don't think I could bear being restrained like that."

"Okay," I acquiesced. "I hadn't planned on doing that, anyway. But please, keep your hands off my shoulders, chest and upper back. Those are the places that I can't stand to be touched." I pointed to each place on my body to show her where the no-zones were.

"Sure, okay," she agreed, her eyes softening in understanding. "For me it's my wrists, ankles, stomach and back. I understand your body will likely have to be pressed against my stomach or back, but not your hands please." I nodded my agreement and took another step towards her.

"Miss Steele," I whispered once I reached her. "Do you have any idea the effect you have on me?" She shook her head. I took her hand and placed against my hardening shaft. "Is that okay?" She nodded, touching me lightly, through the layers of clothing. Her feather light touch made me hard as a rock instantly, and begging to be buried inside her. _Slow, Grey. Take it slow._

I reached up and tugged on the first button of her dress. Her hand stopped me continuing to the next button. "I have scars," she whispered. "A lot of them." She sounded self-conscious.

"So do I sweet girl. Do not worry; I will desire you, no matter what." I kissed her forehead. She let go of my hand, letting me continue to undress her.

Taking care not to touch her flesh, I undid all the buttons that went down the front of the dress. It fell open revealing a lacy navy blue bra and matching panties. The sight made my mouth water. Carefully I pushed the dress off her shoulders, again taking care not to touch her.

She then grabbed my hand and placed it over her heart. "Feel that? My pulse is racing, but I don't feel afraid," she said.

"It's excitement," I answered, caressing her chest and collar bone with my fingers. "Desire."

"May I undress you?" she asked, her expression contrite and submissive. It made my cock twitch. I nodded, reminding her not to touch my chest.

She deftly undid all the buttons of my shirt and slid it off my shoulders, never touching me once. Then, as her eyes raked over my torso, she bit into her bottom lip and started for my belt. After she had that removed, she flung it across the room and dropped to her knees. Her hands went to the button of my pants and within seconds, my pants were pooled around my ankles, my engorged member only covered by my thin boxer briefs.

"Stop biting that lip, Miss Steele," I admonished, raising her back up to my level by grasping her chin. "I want to remove your bra and panties and kiss you all over," I whispered. "Can I do that, Anastasia?" She moaned in response and I took it as a yes.

I reached around and undid the clasp of her bra with one finger, careful not to touch her back. She let the straps fall from her shoulders, the lacy garment dropping to her feet. My hands slid down her sides and grasped her panties, pulling them down her legs. She grabbed onto one of the bed posts to balance herself while she stepped out of the panties. I turned her towards the bed and laid her down.

Hovering over her, I leaned down and kissed her chastely. "Please tell me if I do something that you don't like, okay?" I requested. She nodded her reply. Normally a nod would get a swat on her behind, but I had to remind myself that Anastasia is not my submissive. I could not punish her. "Please say it out loud," I added, leaning down to kiss her neck.

"I promise I'll tell you if you do something I don't like… oh, but I like that very much…" she trailed off into a moan. I nipped and kissed her neck, her collarbone, and down in between the valley of her perfect breasts. Leaning on one arm, I traced around her breast with my fingers, careful not to touch her stomach when I came around the underside. I pinched her peak between my fingers and rolled it gently. I noticed her stomach muscles clench, revealing a well-toned six-pack. Not many women could achieve that, she probably worked out a lot.

"You are so beautiful," I told her. I slid down her body slightly so I could take her luscious peak in my mouth. She tasted divine.

"Oh my," she breathed.

"Do you like this, Ana baby?" I asked, speaking against her now hardened peak.

"Yes, Christian. It's amazing," she replied. I smiled against her skin and worked my way down her abdomen. I trailed light kisses across her stomach, noticing her flexing and flinching with each kiss. She wasn't telling me to stop, so I continued my ministrations. I wanted to show her that not all touch was bad. It could be very, very good. I only used my lips on her skin, showing her the soft, gentle pleasure that could come from simple kisses.

Finally, I reached her paradise. I could smell her arousal, and it smelled like fresh lilacs and rain in springtime. It made me groan in desire. I moved closer, letting her curls tickle my nose. Normally I'd be adamant about a full Brazilian wax. But something about Ana's soft curls, her innocence, she was giving it to me, freely, and I would cherish it. I wanted her to keep them.

I stuck my tongue out and licked her tentatively. Oh god. She tasted even better than she smelled. My inner monster roared at me, telling me to take what was mine. I imagined slamming into her and fucking her senseless. But no, I couldn't do that. Not yet anyway. We'd have to work up to that. For now, Vanilla was the way to go.

I began licking her with fervor, sucking and nipping her sensitive nub. She was writhing beneath me, encouraging me to continue. I slid my hand up her thigh and teased her entrance with the pads of my fingers. "Yes, Oh god," she cried. "What is this feeling?" she breathed.

I could feel her muscles tightening around my fingers. "You're about to have an orgasm, baby. Let it go, Ana. Come for me." I resumed my assault on her delicious clit, pressing my tongue against it nice and hard. I pumped my fingers in and out of her faster and faster until finally, she cried out, her climax taking over.

Crawling up her delectable body, I laid alongside her, caressing her face. My erection was poking her in the hip, but I tried to ignore it. "So that's what an orgasm feels like," she whispered.

"You'd never given yourself one before," I stated. When she asked what that feeling was, I knew she'd never had an orgasm before.

"No," she replied. "I was too ashamed for many years, thinking I was dirty and unworthy." I started to protest, but she reached over and pressed her finger against my lips, silencing me. "I don't feel that way anymore. Haven't for a long time. Flynn helped with that. But I still could never bring myself to touch anything. I was too afraid, and anything sexual always brought back horrid memories of what happened to me."

"And how do you feel about it now?" I asked.

"I want more. A lot more," she replied. I grinned from ear to ear. It was wonderful to know that I was the one that helped erase her fears; that she wanted to be with me. Wanted more than what I had just given her. She looked down, eying my erection, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

"Don't bite your lip," I scolded, pulling her lip free from her teeth. "I want to do that."

"Okay," she said. "But how can I help with this?" she asked, pointing at my hardened member. "I want to make you feel what I just felt." I considered her words, imagining her sitting atop me, riding me furiously. Then I remembered. One stop I'd forgotten to make on the way home. Had I known she'd practically demand sex from me that night, I would have ensured a stop at the drugstore took place.

"Oh, Anastasia. I want to be buried inside you so badly. Unfortunately, I haven't any condoms. I had no idea we'd be doing this tonight, and regrettably, I'm ill prepared."

"Well, um… condoms serve two purposes, yes?" She began. I looked at her confused. "Prevention of pregnancy, and protection from various STDs, correct?" I nodded. "Well, being so inexperienced, I haven't any STDs, and given your nature, I imagine you're tested regularly." I nodded again. "And as far as prevention of pregnancy, well I can't get pregnant. So that's a non-issue."

"Are you on birth control?" I asked her. If she'd never had sex, why would she be taking a pill or having shots?

"No, I um… god this is embarrassing… I don't have a uterus." Her cheeks flamed red.

"Why not?" I asked. I wondered if I should have read her medical report further the other day. It might have gleaned some more information, though it seemed she was more than willing to inform me herself.

"The day that I was attacked," she began. "Oh god, we're totally killing the mood." She looked as my erection dwindled and softened to half-mast. "Um, the man who attacked me… he was very, very rough with me, and because I was so small, he damaged my reproductive organs. They had to be completely removed." She was looking away from me, shame coloring her face.

"Oh my sweet Ana. I'm so sorry," I cooed. I reached out to her, wanting to pull her into my arms, but hesitating. Was she ready for that yet? Clearly she felt she was ready for sex, but was she ready for _that_ kind of affection and intimacy? I vowed then and there that if that fucker was still alive, he wouldn't be for long.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ana PoV

He reached out as if he wanted to cradle me in his arms. I saw his arms hovering, midair, hesitating. Rather than waiting for him to drop his arms and see the disappointment in his eyes, I turned on my side, facing away from him, backed up and pressed my back against his chest. I reached over and pulled his arm around me, draping it across my own arm. Rather than feeling trapped or claustrophobic, I felt safe. Like nothing and no one could get to me as long as his arms were around me.

I felt his nose skimming along the shell of my ear. "You amaze me, Miss Steele," he whispered.

"How so?" I asked, nuzzling the back of my head into his chest.

"A week ago, you nearly had a panic attack when you fell into my arms. You were so afraid of human contact, both physical and emotional. Now here you are in my bed, in my arms, having just shared your most intimate part with me, allowing me to please you. That's a huge amount of progress in one week, wouldn't you say?"

"Fair point well made, Mr. Grey," I quipped, stealing his often used line.

As I lay in his arms, I thought about what just happened. I let him undress me; let him touch me with his lips. Felt him in between my legs, in my most private place, that even I had never ventured to. He was so careful, so sweet and gentle. It was hard to believe that another side of this man was harsh, aggressive, and dominant. Did he want to do all those things in that room with me?

"About your playroom," I began. He shifted uncomfortably behind me. "Do you, um… have you thought about bringing me in there?"

"Thought about it? Yes. I have," he replied. Oh dear. "But I won't. I know you're nowhere near ready for any of that. And maybe you won't ever be. And that's okay. I realized something today, Ana. I don't need another submissive. I don't even want one. All I need is you. All I could ever want is you. Even if all we did was slow, gentle sex for the rest of time; that would be more than okay with me."

"Okay," I said. "I think that would be best for now. And maybe later, we could um, explore some other options."

"You say it like we're making a business deal," he joked. I giggled. "Oh, what a lovely sound. I love to hear you laugh, Anastasia. It's like music to me."

"Music," she echoed. "Well, Mr. Grey… you've seen and sampled something that I've never shared with anyone before. Shall we keep the pattern going? I have something else I wish to share with you. Something that no one ever has seen. Well, one person, but she's dead now, so she can't see it anymore."

"Your biological mother?" he asked.

"No, my grandmother, Mammaw. She taught me something as a kid; it was a way to channel my feelings into something constructive. But I was too shy to ever show anyone but her. Have you an extra robe?" I asked, spotting one hanging on the back of his closet door. He nodded and hopped off the bed, disappearing for a moment into his en-suite. He reappeared holding a silk lavender colored robe. I didn't want to think about who had worn it before.

"It's brand new," he told me, answering my unspoken question. "I thought you looked lovely in that plum dress the other day, so I had Taylor pick this up in case you ever stayed over."

"Oh, well thank you. It's lovely." He held it open for me to, draping it over my shoulders. I slid my arms in the sleeves, wrapped it around me and tied it closed. He donned his own robe and followed me out the door towards his living room.

I sat at his piano, gesturing for him to sit next to me. "You play too?" he asked, curious.

"Not as well as you; my style is a bit less… classical, I guess," I answered. Playing a crescendo from high e to low g, I felt the ease of the keys beneath my fingers. "What a beautiful instrument," I mused.

I began playing a familiar blues tune, to show him the genre I was sticking to, and then transitioned into an older blues number, a la Billie Holiday. As the melody opened, I began singing.

 _Sometimes I say if I just could get away with my man_

 _He'd go straight sure as fate for it never is too late for a man._

 _I'd just like to dream of a cottage by a stream with my man_

 _Where a few flowers grew and perhaps a kid or two like my man._

 _And then my eyes get wet, almost forget_

 _'_ _Til he gets hot and tells me not to talk such rot._

 _Oh my man I love him so he'll never know_

 _All my life is just despair but I don't care_

 _When he takes me in his arms, the world is bright… alright_

 _What's the difference if I say I'll go away?_

 _When I know I'll be back on my knees some day_

 _For whatever my man is… I'm his forever more._

I played a solo ending of the song on the piano for a few moments before Christian's hands covered mine, stilling them, making the last few notes echo through the room. "You sing," he whispered, his face in complete awe. "Your voice is incredible." He leaned towards me and captured my lips with his own. Possessing me, giving me himself in return.

My fingers snuck up into his hair, anchoring myself to him. His chest was pressed against mine, the thin fabrics of our robes the only thing between our flesh. I wanted him. Here and now. On this piano bench. "Christian. Make love to me," I whispered.

"Here?" he asked, pulling his lips from mine, pressing his forehead to mine. I looked into his beautiful grey eyes and nodded.

"Yes, right here. Right now. Please," I begged. He groaned in response and reached down to pull the knot of my robe loose. The fabric fell open revealing my naked form to him. He pulled open his own robe, shrugged it off, and laid me down onto the bench, grabbing a pillow from the nearby couch to place under my head.

"I'll be very gentle," he promised. I nodded in response as he ghosted his fingers down my torso, on either side of my stomach. My muscles clenched deliciously in my abdomen as he caressed my body. His fingers found my sex, rubbing and moving, making me wetter by the second. "Oh, Ana. You're so ready for me."

"Yes," I replied, lifting my pelvis off the bench. "Please, now, Christian." He smiled again and leaned over me, positioning himself at my entrance. For a moment I wondered how much it would hurt, if he would even fit, but then his mouth was on my nipple, and I forgot to be worried about pain.

He sucked and bit down on my hardened peak, eliciting moans and groans from me. And then, before I realized it, he was fully sheathed within me. It didn't hurt at all. The feeling was odd, but it wasn't unpleasant. "Oh Anastasia," he whispered against my ear. "You're so tight. Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"I'm more than okay, Christian," I replied, stroking his hair. "And it doesn't hurt at all. You sufficiently distracted me with your attention to my breast."

"That was the plan," he replied, smiling against my neck. He pulled out ever so slowly and pushed back in, this time hitting a spot I didn't know I had.

"Oh my," I gasped. "Do that again." He chuckled lightly and repeated his motion, getting the same response from me. Again and again he moved in and out of me, achingly slowly, but it felt so amazing. He picked up the pace a little, but stayed gentle and loving.

"God, you feel amazing," he said, leaning down to kiss me passionately. He kept moving slowly in and out, in and out. I could feel the pressure building, like before. Only it was more intense.

I moved my hands from his hair to his sides, gripping his hips as he moved within me. My legs bent upwards of their own accord and wrapped around him. This, I learned, allowed him to get even deeper within me. I groaned loudly when his next thrust went deeper than I'd ever imagined. "Oh Ana. I won't last long," he said into my hair. His fingers moved to where we were joined, pressing against my sensitive nub, adding to the incredible sensations I was already feeling. "Come for me, darling."

I exploded at his words, convulsing around him, feeling my muscles clench and tighten around his hardness. He pumped into me a few more times before releasing into me, groaning my name as he came.

My body was useless. I couldn't feel my legs, couldn't even lift my head. Utterly spent, and it was glorious. At some point, Christian stood up, picked me up and carried me back into his bedroom. He laid me on his bed after pulling back the covers and slid in behind me, wrapping his arm securely around me. "I can't imagine all sex is like that," I mused. "If it was, no one would ever leave their houses."

My Adonis chuckled into my shoulder blade. "I can't speak for the planet, my dear, but it was rather incredible. Best sex I've ever had, to tell the truth." This I found hard to believe.

"Oh, please. Little-old-inexperienced-me can't have been better than the women who are trained for this. The women who know exactly how to react and respond to your dominant nature. I mean, all I did was lay there and moan a lot. You were doing all the work."

"You underestimate yourself, Miss Steele. You were raising your hips, thrust for thrust, meeting mine, allowing me deeper access into you. Plus you gave me what none of them ever could."

"What's that?" I asked.

"An emotional connection," he replied. "Every other woman I've been with has been only about the sex, about the dominance. Exuding my control over them. With you it's not that way. I think this is what those sappy romantics call making love."

Oh my. The "L" word. We'd known each other a week and he was talking about the "L" word. "Please say something, Ana."

"Um, well, I have no basis for comparison, but it wasn't frenzied and rough like is portrayed in some movies. I definitely felt an emotional connection, but then I've felt that ever since you kissed me on Monday." I blushed into my pillow, thankful he couldn't see the reddening of my skin.

"Don't hide your blush from me, Anastasia," he said, tugging on my shoulder to get me to turn back around. "That along with your laughter are two of the most beautiful things in the world to me. This is going to sound so cheesy, and I can honestly say that I've never ever uttered these words in my life." I waited, holding my breath for his words. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

I burst out laughing. A full guttural, deep laughter that started deep in my belly and exploded through my mouth. I was convulsing and tearing up from laughing so hard.

"Could you wound my ego any further?" he asked, pouting.

"I'm sorry; it's just the look on your face. I can see why those words have never left your lips before. It sounded and looked all wrong coming out of you. I didn't mean to find it so funny. I'm sorry."

"Should I take that as a no, then?" he asked, still looking wounded.

"No, no, God no. Of course I'll be your girlfriend." I watched as his face transformed from an adorable pout to a megawatt grin that made his eyes sparkle with joy. I couldn't help but join in his happiness and giggle with giddiness.

"You've just made me the happiest man alive," he said, pulling me into his arms. He nuzzled my neck, kissing along my jaw bone and cheek. Wherever he could reach.

* * *

Christian PoV

I couldn't believe she said yes. This amazing woman who had grown leaps and bounds in the past week had consented to being in a relationship with me, fifty shades of fucked up, Christian Grey. I knew at that point that I had to be fully honest with her. I had to tell her exactly why I did what I did with women.

"I have a confession to make," I said as we settled down from our jubilance.

"Okay," she replied, already sounding a bit nervous.

"I want to be fully honest and forthcoming with you, like Flynn said we should. I want to tell you why I am a Dominant. Or rather, why I pick the women I do. Why I originally wanted you for a submissive."

"Okay," she said again, turning towards me so she could look into my eyes.

"I understand if this is a deal-breaker, if you want nothing more to do with me after this. I will let you go with no hesitation and…"

"Christian, just tell me," she said, cutting me off.

"I prefer brunettes," I began. "Petite, pale skinned brunettes with long hair because you all look like the crack-whore who birthed me." I closed my eyes as I waited for a response from her.

"Hmm," she finally said. I snapped my eyes open and honed in on hers. I couldn't read what I saw in her eyes, but disapproval and anger were not there. "That makes sense."

"What?" I couldn't believe she condoned it.

"Well, I'm sure you had a lot of anger towards her for what she put you through during the first few years of your life. You want to get back at her, show her what she did to you, how much her actions or lack of actions affected you growing up. But you can't, since she took that away from you, too. So you seek out women that resemble her and are more than willing and able to endure any punishment you decide to deliver, thus feeding your needs. You're not a sociopath, or you would just go around willy-nilly beating and abusing unsuspecting brunettes. But instead, you find consensual agreements that the women exact pleasure from, too. I think it makes perfect sense."

"You're… you're really okay with that?" I asked, completely astonished. How could she be so understanding?

"Well, I don't know that I'm 'okay' with it, but I understand it. I think there are other possibly more constructive ways to deal with your feelings. Which I'm sure is one reason why you see Dr. Flynn. I had a similar affliction for a few years. I was unwilling to let Miranda be a mother to me. I was far too self-sufficient, and I wouldn't let her touch a hair on my head. My anger towards my biological mother stood in the way of me allowing any one to be my parent after that. I tried to keep her from my siblings too. I felt that I needed to take care of them by myself, and that we didn't need anyone. It took Miranda's own mother, my Mammaw showing me how much my actions were hurting her, for me to change my ways.

"She showed me that I didn't need to take my anger towards Rebecca, my biological mother, out on Miranda. Miranda didn't do anything wrong, in fact, she saved me from the horror of the foster system. She was willing to adopt all three of us at once, so we wouldn't have to be split up. She adopted a five year old girl who had all kinds of problems, when there were plenty of newborns that needed homes, too. Ones that wouldn't be so much work, and wouldn't be so damaged. Mammaw taught me that parents should love unconditionally, nurture, teach, and care for their children. That Rebecca was not the norm. And finally, I accepted that, and I let Miranda in."

"Okay, so what you're saying is that I need to let go of my anger towards the crack-whore. Not take it out on young women who look like her. But what can I do instead?" I asked. Doing what I did was all I knew. I couldn't think of any other way to release the anger.

"How effective is it?" she asked. I looked at her questioningly. "Well, you say you continue to do this, even wanted me as a submissive. So that tells me that I'm not the first, right? There have been at least a few, I imagine. After all that time, after all those women, do you feel any less angry towards your mother?"

"No," I replied quietly.

"Alright, so that tells me that this form of therapy, if we can call it that… isn't working. I no longer feel angry towards Rebecca. She did horrible, awful things to me and my brother. She killed herself the day my sister was born, leaving me with a barely functioning toddler and a newborn to care for. She made it so I was terrified of life and everything in it for the next two decades. But rather than being angry, I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry that she let her addictions control her life. I feel sorry that she chose the drugs over her own children, that she considered us a burden and an annoyance rather than a blessing.

"I've risen above her, Christian. I've become better than she could have ever hoped to be. It's like the often used plot in various movies and TV shows. The kid that gets beat up and bullied in school becomes more successful than the kids that bullied them. Showing that even though you put me down for years on end, I rose above it, became better than you. And even if they were capable of bullying the bully, they've risen above that as well. I think you could take on the same ideal.

"Think of what you might have become if Grace and Carrick hadn't adopted you. If you'd either stayed with her, if she hadn't died, or if you'd wound up in the foster system. How would you have turned out, do you think?"

"I probably would have spiraled down the same path she did, and been dead at twenty, more likely as not."

"Right, so you've risen above her, haven't you? You've shown her, that even though she was a shitty mother who let her boyfriends beat and abuse you, you've become so much more. It shows her that 'no matter what you did to me, I'm still standing. I'm still strong. And I always will be.' You're a twenty-seven year old billionaire, CEO of a global company, and have landed the most eligible bachelorette in Seattle. I'd say you've come a long way, my dear. And it's not so much about superiority, but about achievement. She likely had the world at her feet when she was young, and instead chose to throw it all away to get high."

"You're right," I told her. "You're absolutely right. I've already exacted my revenge, so to speak." Why would I need to whip little brown haired girls when I've already shown the crack-whore how much better I am than she is? I still felt the compulsion to dominate, but not so much to punish.

I didn't want to punish Anastasia. That was a true revelation. Even if she defied me, even if she lied to me or did something unthinkable, I didn't want to ever hurt her. I remembered the look in her eyes when I touched her wrist for the first time. She was completely terrified. I couldn't imagine how scared she would be if I took a cane to her, or even spanked her. Perhaps eventually we could move into pleasurable spankings, but I would never ever punish this wonderful woman.

"I should be paying you instead of Flynn," I said. "You've shown me so much more in the past few days than he has in the past few years. Thank you, Anastasia Steele. For not only consenting to be mine, but for showing me your strength and power, and that even though we both have gone through such hell in our lives, that we have overcome it all."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Anastasia PoV

I woke up in the morning, far too warm. I opened my eyes and discovered that Christian was wrapped around me like a burrito. His head was on my chest, his arm wrapped around my waist, and his leg draped between mine. He radiated heat, like my own personal sun. I liked that idea, but it wasn't helping me stay asleep.

It was shocking to me that I still didn't feel threatened by his physical closeness. I hadn't ever been able to let someone this close physically or emotionally. This wonderful man has changed nearly everything about me in the span of just a week. And I know that he's changed a lot, too. I ruffled his hair lightly and kissed his forehead.

As I carefully slipped out of bed, miraculously not waking him, I found my new robe and padded out to the living room. I'd given my bag to Taylor, and had no idea where he'd put it. I needed to check my messages in case something catastrophic happened at Steele Designs. He was nowhere to be seen, so I'd have to either wait for Christian to wake up or hunt through the house for my purse. Sure I'd shared a bed with the man, but I didn't feel entitled to rifle through his closets just yet.

There probably was a hall closet where my bag was put, that seemed innocent enough. I headed towards the foyer in search of it. Taylor appeared out of nowhere and asked if I needed assistance. I jumped when he spoke. "Oh, I'm sorry Miss Steele. I didn't mean to startle you."

"You must have been a ninja in another life," I said once my pulse calmed down. "You took my bag from me when I came in last night. May I have it please?" He chuckled lightly then led me to the wall next to the elevator doors. I blinked at him in confusion.

"Yes of course. I placed it here, in the closet. I should have told you where it was in case you needed it. My apologies. Your shoes are there as well." When did he collect my shoes? Were they still there when I sang for Christian? I couldn't remember. He opened a closet that was previously invisible, the hinges being hidden. It looked like part of the wall just opened. Mystery house style; I liked that. My shoes were on the floor, my purse hanging on a hook just inside the closet door. I thanked Taylor for his help and he disappeared silently. Odd, that.

"You're leaving?" I heard Christian's voice ask. He sounded so sad.

"No, of course not!" I replied, peeking at him from the other side of the closet door. "Why would I leave without saying goodbye? Where would I go in this thing?" I asked, gesturing to my very thin robe that left little to the imagination. "I was just getting my bag to check my messages. Taylor put it in here."

"Oh," he replied. "I woke up and you weren't there. I guess I panicked. Sorry. I tend to overreact sometimes. Flynn and I are working on that." I watched as his muscles relaxed. Apparently he was really worried about me leaving. Why would I leave when I had just poured my heart and soul to him the night before? And gave him the most intimate part of me. He had some serious abandonment issues, yet another thing we needed to work on.

"Good," I said, backing out of the closet and closing it. The break in the wall all but disappeared when the door was closed. If I didn't know it was there, I wouldn't have ever noticed it. Awesome. "I want a closet like this in my house. Get on that, would you?" I demanded playfully, giggling.

"I'd do anything to see that smile and hear that giggle every day," he replied, taking the tone down a bit. "Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?" He was wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants that hung off his hips deliciously.

"Yes, that would be lovely," I said, taking his offered hand and following him back into the kitchen. "Wait, first things first." I stopped him. I leaned up on my tip toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Good morning, boyfriend."

"Good morning, girlfriend," he said back. His smile was dazzling and had me swaying on my feet. "You let me hold you last night."

"I feel very safe with you," I replied. "Your touch doesn't bring back horrid memories. Perhaps we can get there with you one day, too. I held my hand above his chest, over his heart, and paused. I needed his permission to do this, as I'd taken his hand last night and placed it over my heart; he needed to take the initiative here.

"I… I can't," he replied. I dropped my hand. "Not yet. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Christian. We'll get there," I reached up and patted his cheek and headed the rest of the way towards the kitchen. I paused at the end of the bar to rifle through my purse for my phone. As I suspected there were several messages from Kate and even a couple from Ethan.

 **8pm: Ana! How's the date going? Are you naked yet? Let me know! K**

 **10pm: ANA! Seriously, what's going on with Mr. Money Bags? Is he showing you a good time, y'know what I mean?! K**

 **10:30pm: Big sis, Kate seems to think you're purposely ignoring her texts, but will answer mine. Apparently both of us are curious as to how your date is going. Well, I just want to make sure he's being a gentleman. That's what brothers are for, right? E**

 **12am: ANASTASIA ROSE STEELE! I'm going to come over there if you don't tell me what in the eff is going on!**

 **12:15am: I calmed Kate down, no worries about her showing up tonight. But we would like an update. Please call or text soon. E**

With that, I decided to call Ethan. He'd be much easier to talk to than Kate, as she was apparently pissed at me. "Ana! Thank god!" he answered.

"Jeez, where's the fire, Ethan?! I have one date with a guy and you both freak out. I'm a grown woman for Smurf's sake," I replied, rolling my eyes at his reaction. I glanced at Christian who seemed amused by my interaction with my brother.

"First date," he amended. "First date EVER. The random dinner on Monday hardly counts, and it was at our house. Wednesday was in a public place. Last night you were at his place. Alone. And you didn't even tell us where he lived. Seriously, Ana, it's dating rule 101. I don't care if we do know his family. When you go to a man's place for the first time, you give someone his details in case we have to come searching for you."

"I'm sorry, Ethan. I'll keep that in mind. But I'm fine. Last night was great, and we're about to have breakfast." I tried to ignore the double standard he just gave me. He has never given me an address or a name for any of the women he's dated in the past. Unless he entrusted that information to someone else.

"You're still there?! You spent the night?! Oh dear god. I do not want to think about my sister that way. Oh god!" I giggled, imagining him trying to rid his mind of the mental image of me in bed with Christian. Well, we did it on a piano bench, but still. I heard what sounds like a struggle or someone dropping the phone.

"ANA!" Kate yelled, having stolen the phone from our brother. Oh dear. "You have some serious explaining to do. Where are you? When are you coming home?"

"I'm still at Christian's," I explained. "We're about to start breakfast, and I'm starving so I'm going to let you go now. I'll be home later. I'm not sure when."

"Wait, what? You're still there? Did you? Oh my god, you did. It's all in your voice! Yay! No more V-card for Ana-bear!" My cheeks flushed at her words.

"Goodbye Kate!" I said as I hung up the phone.

"That sounded interesting," Christian mused, a beautiful smirk on his face.

"Yes, my siblings are having fits over my having a boyfriend. Which they don't even know officially yet. They know I'm here and that I spent the night… they're filling in the blanks, I guess."

"Well, I'm sure they'll tell Elliot and Mia and I'll be getting similar calls later today," he added, chuckling. "Oh, how many changes you're making in me, Miss Steele. Now, on to breakfast."

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Um…" he replied. That right there told me that he rarely set foot on the other side of the breakfast bar.

"Not to worry. Leave breakfast to me," I said. I gestured for him to sit down and I went to work locating a skillet, a mixing bowl and all the ingredients to make a Spanish tortilla.

He watched in rapt attention as I deftly cut up the potatoes, chopped the peppers, cheese, onions and mushrooms and whisked the eggs. I whirled around the kitchen, never missing a beat. The potatoes were frying a few minutes before I added the mushrooms and onions. Lastly I added some peppers and freshly minced garlic before pouring the eggs in. "Wheat or white toast?" I asked, holding up both loaves. He indicated wheat and I set about toasting the bread while the tortilla was finishing up. I then cut up some fresh fruit I found in the crisper and plated the meal, tossing some shredded cheese on top of the tortilla.

"Wow," he replied. "I don't think Mrs. Jones can even work that efficiently. How do you do it?"

I shrugged. "I love to cook. It's one of few places that I'm in my element that I feel most comfortable. Plus, everything in this kitchen is so accessible. Whoever designed the layout and organization deserves an award of some kind." He smiled and took his first bite as I sat down next to him. He moaned in delight.

"Good god, woman. First the bruschetta, the tortellini, and the soufflés. Now this. You've got every major meal covered. You should definitely open up a restaurant."

"Maybe someday." I thought about it briefly, but hadn't decided if being a chef at a restaurant was something I really wanted to do. I loved cooking for one or two people or maybe a small gathering here and there, but not necessarily a restaurant full of people every day.

"Perhaps you and my sister Mia could open one up together," he suggested. "She studied cookery under some renowned chef in France. And I know she's an excellent cook, too." The idea was intriguing. Perhaps once Steele Designs really took off, I could relinquish the reins to my sister and brother, and pursue other things.

After breakfast, the doorbell rang. Or rather, the elevator dinged, alerting us to someone's arrival. "Christian?" a woman's voice called out. It sounded like his mother.

"Yes, mother," he replied, confirming my suspicion. He seemed slightly surprised, but not put off by her unannounced arrival. "What brings you here?" He leaned down and kissed her cheek in greeting. She kept her hands to herself, I noticed.

"Oh I wanted to stop by and see what you were up to today; I thought maybe we'd have brunch together." As she finished her words, she peered around him and spotted me perched on the bar stool, wearing nothing but a silk robe and a shy smile. "Oh, but it looks like you've got company. Who is this lovely young lady, Christian?"

"Anastasia Steele, my girlfriend," he replied.

"Ana, please," I amended, hopping off my stool. "You know my parents."

"Oh yes! That _is_ you. Without the mask, of course. How lovely to see you again, dear!" She greeted me in the same way as her son, keeping her hands to herself, but leaning in to kiss my cheek. My parents must have tipped her off. "And his _girlfriend_?! Oh that's wonderful! I'm just thrilled for the two of you!" She was grinning from ear to ear, practically bouncing in place with excitement, clapping her hands together. "Well, I won't keep you. I just was driving by on the way home from a house-call for one my patients and thought I'd drop in. You two have a lovely day! And I'll see you tomorrow Christian, and perhaps you, too, Ana?" She looked at me curiously but beaming happiness. I looked at Christian, who nodded, smiling back at his mother. "Oh excellent. Well, see you tomorrow, then!"

She bounded out of the house practically turning cartwheels, she was so happy. "What was that about?" I asked as I heard the elevator close.

"She's never seen me with a woman before," he explained. I raised my eyebrows. "No one in my family has. I kept my arrangements with my submissives very, very private. For my own protection, truthfully. I imagine my mother is rather excited to see me not celibate." I considered that for a moment. My family had never seen me with anyone before either. My parents were sure to have a conniption.

"What's going on tomorrow?" I asked.

"Family barbecue," he replied. "I suspect Kate and Ethan will be there as well. I realized I told my mother you'd be there without having asked you first. Is it even something you're interested in?"

"Yes, of course," I said, smiling. "Do you think we should invite my parents as well? Since all their kids will be there."

"Great idea, I'll just text that to my mother. She can arrange that, since she's good friends with them." He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent his mother a quick message.

"I wonder how the parents will react when they see that all three of us Steeles are with all three of you Greys," I said, giggling. Christian grinned at me.

"I'm sure they'll be glad that they're already such good friends, if wedding bells are ever in the air for one, two or all three couples, they'd be getting to know each other rather well."

"I know what I'd like to get to know well," I whispered seductively, eying him up and down, hoping I was pulling it off. I figured the answer was yes, as Christian swallowed loudly and blinked several times.

"You… um… you want to… again?" he asked, stumbling over his words.

"Oh very much so, Mr. Grey," I replied, giving him my best attempt at a smolder. He swallowed again, pulled me off my stool and half ran with me into his bedroom. He closed the door quickly and turned to me. I could already see the beginnings of an erection poking out from his robe.

The look in his eyes told me everything I ever needed to know. He wanted me and he cared for me.

* * *

Christian PoV

I'd never had a woman suggest sex to me before Anastasia. I'd always been the initiator. Now, she'd done it twice. In the span of less than twelve hours. This woman who not a week before was terrified of sex. It was more than humbling that I was the man who changed her outlook on it. I walked towards her slowly, drinking in her every curve before reaching out to pull the tie from her robe loose. It fell open revealing her beautiful body to me. She was self-conscious about her scars, but I saw nothing but beautiful creamy skin that blushed beautifully under my gaze.

"You are exquisite, Anastasia. I can't believe I get to have you all to myself," I said quietly. She gasped at my words and stepped backwards, her legs hitting the end of the bed, causing her to sit down on the mattress. As I reached her, she shakily reached forward and pulled the tie from my robe open. I shrugged it off my shoulders as she removed her own robe and scooted up the bed. I knew she wasn't quite ready for anything more that simple vanilla sex, but even that with her was so amazing, I had no complaints.

I climbed up the bed, hovering over her, and leaned down to kiss her passionately. "You amaze me," I told her. I pressed soft kisses all over her gorgeous face, down her neck and made my way to her beautifully pert breasts. My tongue laved her skin, my teeth pulling on her nipples, making them stick out.

"Oh Christian," she breathed. "That feels incredible." She was squirming beneath me, rubbing her thighs together, searching for friction.

"Your nipples are so sensitive," I said as I tugged on one of them, watching it harden immediately. She gasped in pleasure. "Shall I make you come this way, baby?" She groaned in response, unable to give me a verbal assent. I continued my ministrations on her breasts.

"Yes, Christian. Oh, god, yes!" she yelled, throwing her head back in ecstasy. I bit down harder and tugged on her pert flesh and she came undone. Before she came down from her orgasm, I swiftly filled her with my engorged member to the hilt. "Oh, yes, yes, yes," she chanted as I began moving within her. She was so incredibly tight. I wondered if she would always be this way.

"Ana baby, you feel amazing," I told her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my lips to hers. "Do you want me to go faster?" I asked. She nodded and I picked up the pace. Like the night before, she wrapped her legs around my hips and dug her heels into my ass. She lifted her hips, meeting my every thrust, allowing me deeper into her.

"Faster, Christian. Please," she begged. I sped up again, thrusting slightly harder than before. I could tell I was hitting her g-spot with every thrust. "Oh god, this is… this is… oh Christian!" she came again, harder than ever, her sex squeezing me like a vice, milking my own release from me. I grunted her name as I spilled into her and collapsed on her.

I was panting heavily against her, feeling the sweat of both of our bodies mixing together. As my heart calmed down, she traced lazy patterns along my back. What? I tensed momentarily, waiting for the onslaught of the pain and memories, but it didn't come. All I felt was the soothing balm of her soft fingers caressing my flesh. At that moment, I knew I loved this woman. I also knew that it was far too soon to tell her.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Christian PoV

After a short cat nap, which we both needed, Ana and I headed into the shower. We were going to test her abilities to touch me. I was less nervous about it, given she had been freely touching my back and I didn't have a meltdown. She told me she was so proud of me, and she knew she was taking a risk by doing that. It had been worth it. Every kiss and touch from her healed my soul, and I couldn't wait to get more.

She began by covering a wash cloth with jasmine scented body wash. I was going to smell like a woman, but I didn't care. First, she washed me all over, using the wash cloth, not touching me with her hands. When I didn't have any negative reactions to that, she discarded the wash cloth and replaced it with her bare hands. I tensed slightly when her hands roamed from my chest to my shoulders. She hesitated, searching my eyes for approval to continue. I nodded slightly and she went on.

"You're doing so well, baby," she told me. I gave her a small smile in return.

"Would you let me touch your back?" I asked. I realized I hadn't yet, and I hadn't even seen it.

"Um, okay," she replied. "There are a lot more scars there than anywhere else, so you've been warned."

"Understood." I poured a generous amount of body wash in my hands, rubbed it into a lather and asked her to turn around. Slowly, she did so, her body emanating her anxiety. "I won't hurt you, baby," I whispered to her. She nodded her reply.

I took the body wash and washed along her shoulders first, sure to keep my eyes only where my hands were. I knew I was bound to have a reaction to her scars and I wanted to see and feel them at the same time. As I moved down her shoulder blades, I began to feel the raised flesh of a scar. Underneath my hands were dozens of long, skinny scars. They looked like the kind one would get if they'd been whipped really, really hard. I removed my hands from her skin as they were shaking.

"How did these occur, Ana?" I asked, using every cell of my being to contain the rage.

"When I was naughty, or rather, when she thought I was naughty, I was whipped with a belt, a rope, an electrical cord, anything she could find to hit me with. Sometimes, if she was too out of it, she'd have whatever man was over do it for her. She'd make me hold on to the door frame in the kitchen while they delivered the blows. Sometimes they'd hit me so hard I'd bleed. Hence the scars."

"Oh, Anastasia. I'm so sorry," I told her. I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close to me. She leaned her head back and rested it against my shoulder.

"Your touch is helping, Christian. I'm not afraid anymore. My skin is still super sensitive there, and I remember the pain, but it's not paralyzing, it's not panic inducing. Keep going, please."

I nodded and resumed my washing of her back. All the way down to the small of her back, she was covered in these scars. I was reminded of a movie I'd seen about slavery in the south. When a slave would try to run away or disobey the master or steal, they'd chain them to a whipping post and deliver lashes. I was disgusted with myself to think that I practiced the same kind of punishing. I never whipped so hard that anyone bled, but still, the premise was the same.

"How can you stand to be near me, Anastasia?" I whispered. "I'm a monster."

She quickly turned around. "Listen to me," she said, grasping my chin, forcing me to look up away from the floor and into her deep blue eyes. "You are nothing like them. They were cruel and heartless and full up on drugs and alcohol. You may have punished women, but it was completely consensual, and you didn't make them bleed, am I right?" I nodded. "Okay, then. That's settled. Plus, the moment you realized that I would neither want nor tolerate that aspect in a relationship, you changed your tune. You said yourself that you don't want to hurt me."

I listened to her words and I wanted so badly to believe them. But so many years of whipping little brown haired girls had me full of doubts. "What is it going to take, Christian? How can we get you past your demons? Is it not enough that I'm here? Willingly standing here with you, no contracts, no obligations, but because I truly want to be with you. Probably the one person who would be the most repellant to your ways is standing here in the shower with you. Letting you touch me. Making love with you twice, now. Perhaps we should go see Dr. Flynn today," she suggested.

"Together? As a couple?" I asked.

She nodded. "I think we could show him how far we've both come since we last saw him a few days ago. And perhaps he can shed some light on this self-flagellation problem you seem to have."

"Okay, I'll make an appointment while you dress," I decided.

We finished up in the shower, I helped wash her hair and she mine. And then once we were toweled off and dry, she realized she didn't have any clean clothes. "I'm not wearing that dress to see Flynn," she said, a grimace on her face.

"Um, there's clothing here for you," I told her. "In my closet. When I had Taylor buy the robe, he bought some other things as well." My subs had all been trained to accept anything I gave with no argument, I had bought the clothes when I thought she'd be my sub, but clearly that wasn't the case now.

"Aww, you're so thoughtful! Thanks, baby," she said, kissing me on the cheek. I liked playful, innocent Anastasia. And, that went over better than I expected. I didn't know why I expected her to throw a fit over me buying her clothes. Although, she hadn't seen the tags yet, maybe the fit was yet to come. "How did you know my sizes so well?" she asked. I could hear her rifling through the selection.

"Well I've a good eye and an excellent personal shopper named Carolyn Acton at Neiman Marcus," I explained. "She also had seen pictures of you before, I guess, and was able to pick the sizes fairly accurately. Do you like them?"

"Yes, Christian. Everything is beautiful, and just my style, too." A few minutes later, she emerged, wearing a beautiful deep turquoise sleeveless blouse with black dress pants. She'd found the shoe collection, too and selected a pair of Vuitton heels that matched the blouse perfectly. With a black cardigan and a simple brush through of her hair, she was ready to go. She didn't have a stitch of make up on, but it didn't matter. She didn't need it.

"You look lovely, my dear," I told her. She blushed and smiled up at me. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her soundly. She responded in kind, wrapping her arms around my waist, pulling me flush against her. I could feel her entire delectable body pressing against mine. I was still in only a towel, so the sensations were more than distracting. "Unless we want to have to head back in the shower, I suggest we stop." I pressed a light kiss to her nose and one to her forehead before releasing her and retreating to the closet to get myself dressed.

A few minutes later, we were ready to go and had called Flynn to see if he was available. Curiously, he was always available whenever I called. Anastasia had said the same. We wondered if somehow we were his only clients, or if he just dropped everything any time she or I called.

We piled into my R8 and were on our way. "I've got one of these," she mentioned, caressing the dashboard. I found myself suddenly very jealous of the bloody dashboard. "Mine's midnight blue with a cream interior. They're great cars, aren't they? Very safe." She reached over and captured one of my hands in her own, resting our joined hands against my leg. Instantly and very effectively diffusing my jealous thoughts.

"My thoughts exactly," I agreed.

* * *

Anastasia PoV

We arrived at Flynn's office and were quickly ushered into the room. Christian and I sat together on the sofa, hand in hand. "I see you two have overcome some of your individual issues already," Flynn commented.

"Yes, we have," Christian answered. "I've been allowed to touch this wonderful woman, and can also stand for her to touch me. It's quite the revelation. She's also showed me that my previous form of therapy, in which I contract young brunettes to be my submissives and then punish them in the way I wish I could my mother, isn't working."

"Christian, I've been saying that for years," Flynn countered.

"Yes, but it took _her_ perspective, I think." He caressed my hand as he spoke. "The perspective of a person who has been just as neglected and abused, if not more so, than I was, and under nearly the same circumstances. It took seeing how she overcame those demons, and while she never forgave her mother for what she did to her as a child, she no longer is angry at her."

"Oh?" Flynn replied, as if he's never heard those words from me. Which he hasn't. "Please do elaborate, Ana."

"I haven't been angry at my biological mother for quite some time now. What she did to me does still affect me. I still have my fears of, well, everything, but I'm not angry. I know everything that happened to me is entirely her fault, but there's no anger. I feel pity. I feel sorry for her," I explained. I launched into a similar explanation that I gave to Christian.

"Where I turned all my neglect and abuse into fear, Christian turned his into anger. And he felt the need to punish his mother for what she did. What I helped him realize is that whipping and caning brunettes that resemble his mother, isn't punishing her. It's only punishing himself. Every time he does it, he's reminded of what she did to him. Or what she let her boyfriends do to him. And the cycle begins again. I asked him if after all these years of having submissives has lessened his anger towards his mother, and he said no.

"I explained to him that it clearly isn't working. Therapy is meant to go away after a while, in most cases. Like a sports injury should heal with physical therapy, leading to the limb being fully functional again without the daily exercises. In this case, it's more or less the same. Over time, whatever form of therapy he used should have lessened more and more as his anger diminished through the release he got from punishing these women. But that didn't occur. If anything he needed it more and more as time went on."

"That's correct," Flynn agreed. "Christian was increasing the severity of his punishments for the past few submissives, isn't that correct?"

"Yes, it is," Christian said, squeezing my hand for support. I squeezed back, letting him know I was still with him.

"I also told him that he has already risen above his mother. He's already better than her. By becoming who he is today. A successful businessman, member of a loving family, not succumbing to the hell of drugs and alcohol. He's moved so far beyond where she had any hope of going."

"That's wonderful," Flynn complimented. "It looks like he should be paying you instead of me," he joked.

"I believe I did say that the other night," Christian added, squeezing my knee affectionately. "And by some miracle, this woman has changed me irrevocably. I have no desire to punish her; I don't even want to take her into the play room at all. And it has little to do with her adversities to being restrained and hit with things, and more to do with my disgust at anything that could ever cause her pain. Physical or emotional."

"And what changes have you undergone, Ana?" Flynn asked me.

"Well, as you can see, Christian is touching me," I began. "I don't feel nervous in his presence like I do with most men. We were um… we were able to make love last night and I didn't panic at all."

"Wow!" Flynn exclaims. "Ana, this is huge. I know we've discussed at length your issues with that and I won't go into it with Christian here, but—"

"No, it's okay," I stated cutting him off. "Christian knows everything anyway. Please feel free to speak freely. About me, anyway."

"And about me as well," Christian added. "I don't want to hide anything from Anastasia."

"Very well then," Flynn responded. "Anastasia, you've said in no uncertain terms before that you're terrified to death of sex, and of men in general."

"I was," I replied. "And then I met this guy." I reached over and squeezed Christian's leg the way he did mine. "It seems like we're polar opposites, what with his BDSM preferences, but something about him told me that he was the right guy. I never felt afraid with him, even when we first met. It was like he could read my soul and he knew exactly what to say and how to touch me to ensure I was as comfortable as possible. I've never felt this way with anyone before.

"But let's get down to the reason we made this appointment today," I continued. "Earlier today, Christian saw the scars on my back. Scars I received as a result of being whipped severely with various instruments. He then compared the actions of my mother and her abusive boyfriends and pimps with his own actions as a Dom. I tried to explain that the two situations were completely different, but he still sees himself as a monster."

"She's right Christian. You can't make comparisons simply based on the fact that both scenarios involved a whip of sorts. Your encounters have all been completely consensual and you've never taken it beyond any of your submissives' limits, correct?" Christian nodded. "What happened to Anastasia is the result of poor and abusive parenting. Anastasia has told me that she'd be whipped for things such as peeing her bed when she'd been tied to it for so long, she couldn't hold it any more. And for interrupting her mother when she was doing drugs or other things. She was beaten for asking for more food when there was never enough in the house. And once she was even beaten for stealing food from the fridge to feed her little brother who was nearly dead from starvation."

I cringed at the memories of all the stories Flynn was recounting. I remembered them like they were yesterday, in perfect detail. I remembered the feeling of every blow from the belts, every tear that stained my cheeks, every pang of hunger that went unnoticed. I scooted closer to Christian, practically into his lap. He took the sign and lifted me into his arms and held me close. I sobbed silently into his shoulder while Flynn continued. "I'm sorry Anastasia, I didn't mean to drudge that up. That was reprehensible."

"No it's okay," I replied. "I'm fine now. Can we go?" I requested. Christian nodded and I climbed off his lap, to stand up. "Thank you doctor Flynn, as always. I'm sorry for breaking down, but I think we'll be alright. We just need to make sure we're always communicating with each other, and always honest." He nodded and thanked us for stopping by. I held back my snort. Right, thanks for being able to charge double for an hour since we were both in there.

* * *

Christian PoV

I could have killed Flynn for bringing up Ana's past like that. She looked so afraid and vulnerable as he recounted various stories she'd likely told him. I knew she had eidetic memory. She remembered every single second of her life in perfect detail, probably right down to the feeling of a belt across her sensitive skin.

As we got down to the lobby, I left her standing near the door while I went to get the car. It was pouring rain and I didn't want her to ruin her brand new shoes. She stood near the reception desk, chatting animatedly with the security clerk that was stationed there. I stifled my jealous nature, telling myself that she wanted me and only me _. I'm the only one that makes her feel safe. I'm the only one that gets to touch her._ I repeated the phrases like a litany until I pulled up in the R8. I ran back inside to escort her out.

She hopped in the car and scowled at me. "What?" I asked.

"You're jealous of the security guard," she accused. "Keep your hair on Grey; you know I only have eyes for you. I was fending off a panic attack the entire time I was talking with him."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered. "It appears that you're the only man that I truly feel comfortable with."

"Well, that makes me feel good, but I do want to help you be comfortable with those around you. I'd hate for you to continually live in fear."

"It won't be forever. You're helping me so much, Christian," she told me. She reached over and caressed my cheek. I leaned into her touch, turning my head to kiss her palm.

"I love you," I whispered. She gasped.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Ana PoV

"I love you," he whispered.

I gasped, not in joy, but in shock. I didn't know how to feel about that. We'd been together all of a weekend and he was professing his love for me. Something about that shouted red flag. He was waiting for a response but I was frozen. I hadn't processed that feeling in my head yet. I knew I felt very strongly for him, more than I had for anybody before. But there was nobody before. Everything was new with him. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word.

And now another new thing. He loved me. I could feel the walls closing in, my panic mode setting in. The time when I shut everyone else out and wallow in my own fear. I couldn't do that to him. I needed space. I needed time.

"This is going to sound awful," I began. "Can you take me to my house, please?" I asked. I couldn't look into his eyes; I knew they would show utter devastation. "Christian, no one has ever said those words to me, apart from family, anyway. I don't know how to react. I haven't sorted out my feelings yet, and I'm on the verge of a meltdown. I need some time and space. Just for tonight, okay?"

"I understand," he replied, his voice cold.

I didn't say anything more until we arrived at my house. "Christian, please believe me," I started. "I want to be with you. I care about you very much. But you shocked the hell out of me today, and I can tell that I just need a night away. Just one. I'll bring you breakfast in the morning."

"Really?" he asked, his eyes hopeful but worried. I reached out and caressed his cheek.

"Yes, baby. I'm not going anywhere, but after Flynn laid all my skeletons out in the street and your declaration, I'm very overwhelmed. And when that happens, I need space. That's all. I promise you that I'm not leaving you." I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, trying to convey my feelings as best I could.

"I'll see you in the morning?" he asked, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Yes, I'll be there, breakfast in tow," I agreed. He gave me a half smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He was still worried that I wouldn't be there. I wished I could think of a way to assure him that I would be there, but the only way I knew was to give him the answer I knew he wanted. And I wasn't sure if I could utter those three words just yet.

I headed into my house and away from him, which felt so foreign. I wanted nothing more than to have him comfort me after what Flynn did, but then he had to go and declare his love for me, making my head and heart tangle with each other.

My heart wanted to wrap itself around Christian and never let him go. But my head was screaming at me that it was far too soon in our relationship to be bringing in the L word. I had to decide whether to listen to my head or my heart. And if I did listen to my head, what was I going to do about it?

Leaving Christian wasn't an option. I missed him already and he'd been gone all of five minutes. That alone told me something. To be perfectly honest, I was terrified of loving him. What if he realized that I couldn't be what he wanted? What if he decided he wanted a Dom/sub relationship again? I could never be that for him.

The one place in my house that even my siblings knew not to disturb when I was in there was my basement gym. I changed into yoga pants and a sports bra and headed down there. The room was full of various exercise equipment, enough to make any body builder jealous. I filled my water bottle and climbed on the treadmill.

I could have gone for a run outside, perhaps along the beach, but I didn't want to run into anyone and have to start up a conversation. Amping up the speed after my warm up I ran in a full sprint, trying to clear my head.

Twenty minutes later, I wished I had just run outside, as I knew all I wanted to do was run back to Christian's place. I hadn't made any head way in any decision, but I ached for his arms around me. Next was the lifting equipment. I moved to each machine and lifted until my muscles were screaming at me to stop. I probably went a little beyond my limits, but I couldn't help it.

I was going to be sore in the morning; that was for sure. I made my way up to my bedroom and fell into an exhausted sleep. My mind reeling with everything that happened and my body completely spent from my workout.

 _I'm in Christian's home. He's calling to me, but I can't figure out where he's at. Following his voice, I wind up in his playroom. Christian is standing there glaring at me with a predatory and animalistic expression. It makes me shiver. He's wearing nothing but a pair of faded, torn jeans, the top button undone. "It's about time you got here, Miss Steele. Kneel by the door. You know how," he says harshly._

 _Looking down I realize I am dressed in nothing but a pair of lacy blue panties, my hair braided down my back. I kneel down, placing my hands on my thighs, spreading my legs apart. My body seems to know this stance, though it seems foreign to my mind. "Good girl," he says softly. "You look so lovely."_

 _Fear courses through me, but it's mixed with an excitement that I've never felt before. Is this how he plays with his subs? Why am I in here? He knows full well that all these things terrify me._

 _I see him walk over towards me, though all I can see are his feet as I've kept my head down. He reaches down and strokes my hair affectionately._

 _Then he wraps my braid around his hand and yanks hard. It forces me to look up at him. His expression is feral. "I'm going to tie you to the cross, flog you, and then fuck you senseless," he hisses through his teeth._

 _Tie me up? NO! He knows how afraid I am of that? Why can't I speak? Why can't I protest him? Why can't I run away?!_

 _He pulls me to my feet and guides me over to the cross in question. He pulls my panties down my legs and brushes his fingers through my sex. It makes both of us groan. I pant in fear as he shackles each of my wrists to the posts, followed by my ankles. I'm on display for him, spread eagle, completely at his mercy, and I can't tell if I don't like it or not._

 _Christian walks away from me for a moment to retrieve the flogger. It's soft black suede with small beads at the end of each fall. "This is not going to hurt," he assures me, somehow reading my terror. "You have no transgressions against you today, Miss Steele, so you will not be punished." I gaze at him impassively. Punished?_

 _In the next moment, I feel the lick of the flogger against my stomach. He was right; it doesn't hurt. It stings a bit, but no more than being lightly pinched. My skin pinks beneath his attention, small little pinkish dots all over as he continues to swat me with the flogger. My body is singing for him and I can feel moisture pooling between my legs._

 _"_ _You like this, don't you Miss Steele?" he remarks, rhetorically. "You're so ready for me already." He drops the flogger unceremoniously onto the floor and steps closer to me. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you."_

 _I realize the cross I'm on is adjustable as he moves some pieces and I'm perfectly angled to receive his member into my sex. He fills me in one swift movement and begins to slam into me relentlessly. I cry out at his intrusion, but it's not unwelcome. Feeling him inside me is pure bliss. "Anastasia," he calls out, saying my name like a caress. "I love you so much." I can feel myself building; I'm going to come soon. Just as I do, he speeds up even faster somehow and thrusts into me a few more times before finding his own release. He spills into me, continuing to call my name like a litany._

 _Once we've both climaxed, he pulls out of me and releases me from the cross. I fall into his arms, completely exhausted. "Do you love me Anastasia?" He asks._

 _"_ _Yes," I answer without hesitation. And I know it to be true. I just let this man tie me up, hit me with a flogger and fuck me harder than I thought possible. It has to be love._

I woke with a start, sweating from the dream I just had. I couldn't believe that I willingly went into the Red Room of Pain with Christian. It was something that never even entered into my radar, let alone actually doing it.

What surprised me the most was that I liked it. At least, my dream-self did. I remember being terrified, but also thrilled. Every lick of the flogger sent sensation straight to my core, and had me near begging for more. Once he started making love to me, or rather fucking, that was not making love, I felt so complete.

Glancing at the clock, I noted that it was about time to shower and head over there. The one thing that I did know was that I did indeed love that man. Every single one of his fifty shades individually and the entire package as a whole. He was mine, and I'd have him forever. And I had better tell him soon before he left me for someone else.

I climbed out of bed, immediately regretting working out as hard as I did the day before. Every single muscle ached so badly. Even my hair and fingernails hurt somehow. The massage function on my showerhead was going to be used for sure.

Once out of the shower, I got dressed, and started Christian's breakfast. I wanted to surprise him with a very special meal that I hoped would convey my feelings before I could say them out loud.

 **Good morning, Mr. Grey. If it pleases you, I'm ready to come over now.**

His reply came a few seconds later.

 **Absolutely. I await your arrival.**

I smiled at his simple reply. I knew he was still very worried that I was going to leave him. He had another thing coming all together.

 **Excellent. Would you please preheat your oven to 275 degrees?**

 **That seems an odd request, but yes, I'll do that now.**

An odd request… the man had no idea.

 **Thank you, Mr. Grey. I'll be there shortly.**

I wondered if he was reading into the language of my text messages, but so far he seemed aloof.

Kate was on her way in the house with Elliot Grey in tow. "Ana! There you are! You've got to tell me everything!" She demanded.

"Sorry Kate," I replied. "I'm not staying. I'm actually on my way out. Hi Elliot," I greeted on my way out the door. I was fast, but no match for Kate on a mission.

"Just hang on a second there, Steele," Kate stated, blocking my path to the car. "How many times have I subjected you to listening about all my tales over the years? You owe me at least one! Come on! Share the wealth!"

"Kate, I love you, but unlike you, I have no desire to discuss my personal life with you. Or 'share the wealth' as you said. You know where I was Friday night. You've got a pretty good assumption of what happened, and you probably also have a pretty good idea of where I'm off to now. See you both at the barbecue." I pivoted around her in a move that she didn't expect and made it to my car before she could catch up.

When I spared a glance back at her, she was frozen in place. Likely in shock. Well, I'd more or less just confirmed her suspicions that I slept with Christian. And she learned I was joining him at the family barbecue. Yeah, she was shell shocked.

* * *

Christian PoV

I couldn't believe she was actually coming back. She said she would, and I wanted so much to believe her, but after I so stupidly told her my feelings, I thought I'd never see her again.

I had no clue what was going through my head when I uttered those three little words to her. Well, I knew exactly what was going through my head… those three little words. I had no intention of actually saying them out loud. Not at that moment anyway. Christ, the woman had just barely recovered from her breakdown after Flynn recounted her history.

I hopped in the shower quickly as she was already on her way, and I knew she didn't live far. As soon as I was out and dressed, the elevator dinged her arrival. I realized when I got to the door that I'd sprinted all the way there. "Miss Steele," Taylor greeted, having reached the door first.

"Hi Taylor," she said back, brightly. Okay, so she was in a good mood. That was a good sign, yes? Taylor took her coat and bag, but she was carrying a covered cake pan and a canvas grocery bag and walked with the items into the kitchen. Completely ignoring me.

"Um, hi," I said shyly.

"Oh, hi Christian," she said nonchalantly, as if she wasn't excited by my presence. She placed the cake pan into the oven, still ignoring me and set about setting up our places at the breakfast bar. I didn't know what to make of her behavior, but I didn't like it. It had me worried. Was she going to put me in the friend zone, as Elliot called it?

"Apple or orange?" she asked, holding up bottles of each juice. I gazed at her confused. Ever so slightly, she smirked at me, but then quickly rearranged her expression to the same impassive one. Oh, she was playing a game. Well, I could play too.

"Apple will be fine, Miss Steele." She nodded and poured two large glasses of juice, placing them on the breakfast bar. "And what are we having?" I asked.

"Pancakes," she replied. "I made them already at home, but wanted to heat them up a bit in the oven. Hence why I asked for you to preheat it."

"Fair enough," I answered. "How long until they're ready?"

"Only a few more minutes." I waited those few minutes and she hardly spoke to me, though she did brush her hand against mine when she set the silverware on the table. It sent a jolt of electricity through both of us. I knew it affected her because she froze and blushed for just a moment before resuming her previous behavior.

"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to rearrange these letters into a phrase," she said, placing a plate of alphabet pancakes in front of me. Her own plate had normal pancakes.

"I've never seen alphabet pancakes," I mused. "You could add these to the kid's breakfast menu at your restaurant."

"Perhaps," she replied. She was impassive again.

I stared at the letters trying to make sense of what this game was that she was playing. There were four Os, an E, a U, an I, a V, an L, a Y, and a T. Evidently I was to rearrange the letters into a phrase.

"Since you'll have to handle them quite a bit, I imagine, there are more regular pancakes still warming in the oven if you don't want to eat those," she says between bites of her meal.

This was a game I had never played before. Even as a child, I learned to read by staring at books, not playing silly games. I had to admit though, the anticipation of whatever this message was intrigued and excited me. And when I realized her impassive façade was only that, a façade, I knew it had to be something good. She wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of making alphabet pancakes to break my heart. Would she?

I picked the letters up off the plate and arranged them alphabetically right on the counter. Careful not to tear any of them, I moved them around trying to create as many words as I could from them.

Violet. Vote. Vile Volt. Yeti, Yet, olive. Oil. Oily. Live. Loot. Lout. Evil. Ivy. Let. Outlive. Tile. Toe. Toil. The list went on of words that I could pick out, but none of them helped me make any specific phrase.

Anastasia sat quietly beside me, not offering up any hints. The emotionless mask was back on her face, and she merely observed me. Patiently waiting for when I figured it out. Why were there so many Os? I wondered.

Finally, after more rearranging than I cared to admit, I figured it out. The message she created with pancake batter had my heart soaring.

"I LOVE YOU TOO."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

Christian PoV

"You do?" I asked, astonished.

"Of course I do," she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "More than anything. And, I'll have you know that I even dodged the 3rd degree from my sister this morning to get over here quicker and tell you. And that is no easy feat."

"You're amazing," I told her. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Christian." And she'd said the words. Out loud. To my face. Looking at me as if I was her most precious possession. And she did possess me. Mind, body, and soul, I was hers. And she was mine. I scooped her up off the stool and dashed into the bedroom with her.

"I need to lose myself in you," I whispered in her ear. She groaned in response. Within seconds we were naked and I was buried to the hilt inside her. I moved slowly in and out of her, not wanting to frighten her. God, she felt so amazing. So deliciously warm, tight, and wet. It was so hard to keep from coming just upon entering her. Even in just the bedroom, no other woman could ever compare to my Anastasia. In the rest of life, no one could even hold a candle; she'd melt them on the spot.

"I had a dream last night," she grunted. I locked eyes with her, wanting to know more. "We were in the playroom. You hit me with a flogger and tied me to the cross thingy." Her eyes didn't betray any fear of that idea.

"And?" I asked.

"And then you fucked me senseless," she added, blushing. "And I liked it. All of it."

That surprised me. I'd have to ask her more about it later. At the moment, I was focused on one single task, making love to this incredible woman. "Perhaps you could fuck me senseless right now?" she asked.

"You want me to be rougher?" I asked.

"Oh yes, that was the best part of the dream. And I'd hate for you to be jealous of Dream Christian. He made me come pretty hard. So you'd better show him up." She looked up at me with hooded eyes, darkening the more I moved. She wanted me to fuck her. I had to admit, I was a bit jealous of the Dream me. She should only have mind blowing orgasms when I'm present to give them to her. I wanted all of her pleasure.

"Oh, Miss Steele. We aim to please." I sped up and thrust into her harder and harder. Her fingers went into my hair and clenched it roughly. She begged me to go faster and harder. I was only too willing to oblige. I was slamming into her with all the force I could muster. She was groaning, moaning, yelling, and screaming to god and to me to not stop.

I could feel her muscles begin to tighten around me, her release coming quickly. "Let it go for me, baby. I want to feel you come all over me," I said. Within seconds she exploded, screaming my name. I felt my own release and spilled into her.

"Oh Ana Baby," I grunted as I came down from my climax and pulled out of her. "I love you so much." I peppered her face with kisses, listening to her giggle.

"Ow," she groaned.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" I asked, concerned. I knew I shouldn't have been so rough with her. She wasn't ready for that. Even though she begged me for it; I should have known better.

"No, no. it's not like that. I um, worked out a lot last night, and woke up super sore this morning. Laughing hurts my abs." Oh, well that was different.

"Hmm, I thought we gave each other quite the workout yesterday morning," I said, kissing along her neck and across her collar bone.

"Yes, indeed we did. But I wasn't working out for the exercise. It's my way of decompression, how I clear my head, and incidentally, my heart. I may have slightly over done it in my attempt to make my head and heart on the same page."

"How did you come to your conclusion?" I asked. I wanted to know her exact thought process. From the moment I declared myself to the moment she made the alphabet pancakes.

"When you said the 'three little words,' I was in complete shock. I mean I had just had that meltdown in Flynn's office, then the near panic attack with the security guard, so I was already on edge. And your words just sent me over. I didn't know how to handle them; I didn't know how to respond. So I did the only thing I knew to do and that was pull away.

"I can tell you that as soon as you drove off, I ached for your arms to be around me. Being away from you feels so foreign. That was part of my realization that I love you. My heart knew it, and my head knew that my heart felt that way, but my head kept screaming that it was too soon, and it was a red flag. I'd seen my sister's heart broken so many times by men who would declare their feelings, then do something abhorrent like cheat or lie. I can't tell you how many men I had to beat down because they did that to her.

"So naturally, hearing those words freaked me out a bit. We've only known each other a week and a day. Only been intimate for the past two days. But once I woke up from that dream this morning, I knew. I knew that there was no way I, Anastasia Steele, victim of being tied up, beaten, and raped, could ever let someone tie me up, hit me with something and have me so roughly. I could never ever do that, unless I loved that person.

"And I'm not saying I'm ready for you to haul me up there and do rude things to me, but someday. We can try it someday."

"Do rude things to you?" I asked, chuckling. "I'm glad you came to the conclusion you did. And I'm no longer jealous of Dream Christian. He led you back here. Back to my arms. How could I be jealous of someone that helped me?"

"Touché," she replied. "I don't suppose you have a hot tub, do you?" she asked, wincing as she stretched.

"No. A big bath tub, yes, but no jets. Why?"

"Well after thoroughly working out last night, slaving over those pancakes this morning, and being good and well fucked just now, my body is aching to soak in a hot tub. I have one at my house. We could spend the day there. It's on the way to your parents' house, anyway."

"Sounds great!" I hopped off the bed and into the closet where I put on a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt. I grabbed more clothes for the barbecue and then helped her out of bed and back into her own clothes. Wow, she was really sore. Perhaps that was why she nearly had a grimace on her face all morning; she was in a lot of pain from her excessive exercise.

We drove to her house, this time in her R8 that she'd driven to my place. She was behind the wheel and that made me all kinds of uncomfortable. "Why are you squirming so much?" she asked.

"I don't like to be driven," I replied.

"Taylor drives you all the time," she countered.

"Yes, but that's different. I'm in the back seat for that, and well, it's different."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Christian. Stow your controlling nature for ten minutes and let me drive." She shook her head but was smiling as we continued on our trek to her house.

Once we arrived, she got out of the car carefully, wincing slightly as she felt her muscles working. "That's the last time I do that. I should have known better." She led me into the house, past the kitchen, dining room, living room and up the stairs to her master bedroom. Out on the balcony of her master suite, there was a hot tub. She grabbed a stack of towels from her bathroom and headed out onto the balcony. I followed silently, wondering when she was going to change into a swimming suit.

I watched in awe as she removed all of her clothing, folded it neatly on a table and stepped into the water. Completely naked. Oh my. "Are you coming?" she asked. I was still frozen in the doorway.

I shook my head to clear it, and then quickly disrobed. I stepped into the hot water and moved across the tub to take her in my arms. "This feels lovely," I told her. I pulled her into one of the corners and wrapped my arms around her.

"Mmm," she replied as she leaned back against me and let the jets work over her sore muscles. I reached up and began to massage her shoulders. I could feel the tension she had worked up there; her muscles were hard as rocks. She moaned as I dug my knuckles into her firm flesh. "That's amazing. More pressure," she requested. I pushed harder, kneading her muscles with all the strength I could give. I moved down her back, massaging over her shoulder blades and lower back. After a few minutes she fell asleep. Normally this would be very dangerous in a hot tub, but she was secure in my arms.

She was out cold. I must have exhausted her this morning. I carefully picked her up and lifted her out of the pool. With much difficulty, I wrapped a towel around her and laid another towel across the pillows of her bed and laid her down upon it. I quickly dried off myself, grabbed a throw blanket from the nearby chair and draped it over the both of us. Before drifting off, I set an alarm on my phone so we could be up and get ready in time for the barbecue.

* * *

Ana PoV

 _I will cross the ocean for you_

 _I will go and bring you the moon_

 _I will be your hero your friend anything you need._

I woke up to hearing that song play. I hadn't heard that song in a long time… where was it coming from. Opening my eyes, I saw Christian lying next to me. He woke up moments after me and reached over to where I could tell the song was coming from. He swiped his finger across the screen of his phone and the song stopped. Oh. An alarm, I realized after I was more coherent.

"We took a nap?" I asked. I didn't remember climbing into bed. I remembered Christian giving me the most glorious massage in the hot tub, and then… nothing.

"You fell asleep in the hot tub, which is mighty dangerous, might I add. But I held you in my arms for a few minutes. Then I carried you in here, set an alarm on my phone and then fell asleep too. Hot tubs make us sleepy, eh?" he explained.

I leaned over, placed my head on his chest and wrapped my arm around his waist. "Waking up next to you is the best thing ever," I told him. "How long until we have to leave?"

"Just about an hour. I figured that would be sufficient time for us both to get ready."

"Ana!" I heard Kate call from the hallway. Oh dear. I'm in bed, naked with Christian Grey. Was the door locked? She had a tendency to just barge in.

"My sister," I groaned. I slid off the bed, feeling kind of like jello, but not nearly as sore as I was earlier in the day. I grabbed my robe from the back of the bathroom door and went out into the hall to greet her, closing the door behind me.

"Whose shoes are those in the foyer? They're too big to be Ethan's and I know they're not Elliot's," she began.

"Kate, you know exactly whose shoes they are," I replied, exhausted by her enthusiasm. "We came back here to have a dip in my hot tub, and then took a nap. Now we're going to get ready for the barbecue."

"Just wait 'til you taste my ribs, Ana," Elliot said as he sauntered up the stairs.

"Elliot's ribs are pretty amazing," Christian said from behind me. He was wearing his flannel pants again. I gazed at him, looking at how the pants hang off his hips. He had a delicious v-shaped muscle that disappeared into his pants. Yum. "But they don't hold a candle to mom's calico beans."

"Whoa, Chris! It's really you! It's true! You're here, Ana's in only a robe. Holy shit!" Elliot exclaimed.

"I told you, baby," Kate replied, condescendingly.

"Yeah, but seeing is truly believing and all that. Nicely done, bro!"

"Oh that reminds me, shouldn't we bring something? Deviled eggs or potato salad or something? I make a mean potato chip dip."

"That sounds good, Ana," Elliot replied. "Mom and Dad will have most things, but if your dip is as mean as you say, you should bring that." I nodded and headed back into the bedroom to get dressed.

I chose a sundress that started as a pale yellow at the top and ended as a bright orange at the bottom. Pure sunshine, it looked like. My hair was thrown into a messy bun; I put on a bit of mascara and lip gloss, grabbed a pair of yellow flip flops and headed down to the kitchen to make the dip.

Christian was still standing in the hall way, speaking with my sister, who was grilling him for details about our relationship. I could tell he needed rescuing, but I left him to his own devices. He needed to deal with her eventually.

Elliot was in the kitchen, wanting to watch my dip making skills. I pulled out the dry ingredients, garlic salt, dried Vidalia onions, a bit of black pepper, dried chives, parsley and my secret ingredient. I mixed them together in a bowl and then added a tub of sour cream a bit of ranch dressing and a bit of cream cheese for thickness. "Want to taste test?" I asked, holding out the spoon for Elliot. He licked it seductively and winked at me.

Thank god Christian didn't see that. It was his brother, but I had a feeling that his jealous nature knew no bounds. I didn't blush, thank god, and waited for Elliot's approval of my dip. "Damn woman, that's some good dip. What's in that black container?" he asked, pointing at the container that held my secret ingredient.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," I deadpanned.

Elliot burst out laughing just as Christian walked into the room. "Christian, you hold on to her. She can cook, she's hot, and she can make you laugh." Christian was sex on legs again, dressed in black fitted jeans and a grey t-shirt that read, "Grey is the new pink." I could have just eaten him up.

"I fully intend to," Christian agreed, smiling warmly at me. "You look lovely," he whispered into my ear and kissed my cheek. Now blushing, I transferred the dip into a serving bowl, grabbed a couple bags of chips and we all piled into my Audi q7 to head over to the barbecue. I let Christian drive, since he was so damn fidgety on the way to my house.

We arrived and pulled up alongside Ethan's car. Kate had informed me that he got here early to help out with setting up the grill. "Anything to score points with Mia's parents," she'd said.

"Christian!" Grace exclaimed as she saw him step out of the car. "It's so lovely to see you. And Ana, too. You look fantastic. I love that dress." I thanked her and asked where I could set up my dip.

"Oh, you didn't have to bring anything," Grace said, a small frown forming on her face.

"Yes she did," Elliot interjected. "Just wait until you taste her chip dip, Ma. It's amazing."

"Oh, very well. The table over there has snacks on it. I'm sure you can find some space there." I went to the indicated table and set up my dip with a spoon and opened a bag of chips nearby.

"Imagine my surprise when I arrive here and Grace tells me my daughter Ana will be here with Christian," my mother said as she stepped over to the table. My father was hot on her heels wanting to hear everything.

"Hi mom," I greeted. "And surprise! I've got a boyfriend." I shook my hands in the air to emphasize my words. My dad was beaming at me.

"I've got my eye on that boy," he said, as any good father would. "And on Elliot too, for Kate," he added. He'd never had to worry about boys with me before, it was a revelation for him, and I think he liked it. It gave him more of a protective feeling over me, which I'd never given him before. In one of my boldest moves ever, I reached out and pulled him and my mother in for a hug.

They gasped simultaneously but then hesitantly, each wrapped an arm around me. "I love you both. So much. I don't think I say that often enough." Releasing them, I saw my mother wipe a tear from her eye.

"Christian!" My dad hollered in his army drill sergeant voice. Christian hurried over, gazed at me confused, but then turned his attention to my dad. "Who is this woman and what have you done with my daughter?"

"Sir?" Christian replied, still confused.

"She just hugged me and my wife for the first time in her life and said she loved us. What have you done to her?" Christian realized my dad was joking, and kept along with the game.

"Mr. Steele, I confess. I absconded with your daughter and took a plaster of her entire body. I made a clone out of the mold and that is who you see here today. I had hoped you wouldn't see through it." I was barely containing my laughter, and my father who hardly smiled in his entire life unless he was truly happy or found something ridiculously funny, cracked a smile. A huge megawatt grin from ear to ear. I couldn't remember the last time I saw him smile that big.

"Well, whatever it is you've done. Keep it up, son. I can't tell you how amazing it just felt to have my daughter in my arms like that." Christian nodded and stepped to my side, wrapping his arm around my waist.

"I fully intend to keep it up, sir. For a long time. Forever if she'll have me." I gasped. Should we really have been telling my parents about the depth of his feelings for me? After only a week? Surely not. Christian saw the panic in my eyes. "But that's a conversation for a while down the road, of course."

I relaxed and saw my dad relax his shoulders too. He'd read too far into that statement, just as I worried he might. I wondered if he'd pull me aside and ask about Christian's intentions for me.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" Ethan said as he walked over, mimicking a southern accent. Rather poorly I might add, considering we were from the south. I stepped away from Christian and pulled my brother in for a hug, giving him almost the same words I said to my parents. He gasped, too, but wrapped me tightly in his arms. He swayed me back and forth commenting on how amazing this was.

"If I'd known you'd give hugs like that, I would have pestered you about it a lot more than I ever did," he joked. "Let's go meet up with everyone else," he suggested. I wrapped my hand in his, holding my other out for Christian and the three of us walked into the tented area where our families were converged.

We joked, we ate, we played games; it was a perfect afternoon. Grace pulled me aside and asked me what I had done to make Christian so happy. I shrugged and said he made me happy, too. She could see the changes in both of us, even after having only met me a couple times.

In the early evening, I was helping clean up the barbecue dishes when my phone rang. I'd kept it in Christian's pocket, as I hadn't any. He handed me the phone. I frowned at the display. "Reynolds? Why are you calling me? It's Sunday." Sundays were his official day off. No contact so he could spend time with his family. I gave him most Saturdays, too, but he was technically "on call" those days.

"I normally wouldn't ma'am, but I discovered a piece of information that you wouldn't want me to wait to inform you of."

"Okay, what is it?" I asked.

"I've been informed that Jack Hyde has been released from prison on parole," he replied. There were more words, but I didn't hear them.

My world came crashing down around me. The phone fell from my hand and I dropped to the ground, unable to hold myself upright anymore. "Anastasia?" Christian's seeming distant voice called out. "What's wrong?" He was pulling me into his lap trying to pull me out of my catatonic state. I couldn't respond.

"Reynolds, what did you tell her?" I heard my Dad yell, probably into the phone. I couldn't see anything. Only the face of Jack Hyde filled my senses. His terrible smell. His deep, scary voice. The tattoos that covered both his arms. The red hair that fell into my face when he…

"Oh no," my dad said. "Jack Hyde is out of prison," he told everyone. I heard several gasps.

"Who the hell is Jack Hyde?" Christian asked.

"The man who raped her."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Christian PoV

When Anastasia answered the phone, she was annoyed. As soon as he answered her question about why he was calling, I watched as all the color drained from her face. Not just her skin, but her beautiful blue eyes went flat and lifeless. It was like watching someone's soul or life essence simply leave their body. First she dropped the phone; then she collapsed on the ground. It happened so fast, I couldn't catch her in time.

"Anastasia?" I called out, pulling her in my lap. "What's wrong?"

Mr. Steele picked up the phone where she dropped it and resumed the conversation, barking at Reynolds. "Reynolds, what did you tell her?" he demanded. I looked up to see his reaction, which wasn't all together dissimilar from Ana's. He remained standing though.

"Oh no," he said. "Jack Hyde is out of prison," he told us, locking eyes with his wife, who was instantly in hysterics. Kate's and Ethan's jaws were on the floor, eyes wide as saucers.

"Who the hell is Jack Hyde?" I asked.

"The man who raped her," Mr. Steele said. My mouth fell open in shock. Welch was still digging into that information for me, as it wasn't on the preliminary reports he was able to find. And now I found out. In nearly the worst way possible.

"Anastasia," I pleaded. "Please come back to me." I stroked her hair and her cheek, willing her to regain consciousness.

"He'd been released from parole a few weeks ago. His current whereabouts are not known," Mr. Steele went on, relaying what Reynolds told him over the phone. "We were only notified of it because a man matching his description had been seeing lurking about Seattle, near Steele Designs. It's a breach of his parole, crossing state lines, and part of the decree when he was imprisoned was that he would never be in the same state as one of our kids ever again." I felt like I was going to be sick. If that fucker was anywhere near my Anastasia, he was going to die.

"Why the hell wouldn't the police notify us upon his release?" Miranda asked. "We could have been prepared for this."

"It was in a completely different state, on the other side of the country. I'm sure they had no idea that he'd come after the kids. Much less even know where we are."

My mother knelt down next to us and put her finger to Ana's wrist, to check her heart rate. Ana yelled out in protest and tried to snatch her wrist away. Grace, not knowing any better, wrapped her hand around Ana's wrist to steady her. The answering scream could have been heard for miles. Anastasia wailed and wailed until finally I got my mother to let go.

Ana stilled immediately and curled up like a ball in my lap. "I'm taking her home," I said. "Ethan, can you make sure Kate gets home, later?" I asked him. He nodded solemnly, concern for his older sister written all over his face.

I carried Ana to the car and placed her in the backseat. She curled up tighter again and I was barely able to get the seatbelt around her. Hopping in the front seat and starting the engine, I drove as quickly as possible to her house. While driving, I dialed Welch.

"Sir?" he asked, probably wondering why I was calling on a Sunday.

"Jack Hyde," I hissed. "That's the name of the man who raped Anastasia when she was five fucking years old, Welch. He's out on parole right now, violated by crossing state lines, so now he's wanted. He's fucking in Seattle! Find him!" I snapped. I disconnected the call and threw the phone on the passenger seat.

Finally, I arrived at Ana's house and carried her quickly up the stairs and into her bedroom. "Ana baby," I cooed, smoothing her hair off her face. "We're home. You're safe. I won't let him near you. Please open your eyes for me." I waited a few moments and her eyes began to flutter open.

"Christian?" she asked, as if confused by my presence.

"I'm here baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh Christian," she cried burying her head in my chest, clutching my t-shirt as if it was her life line. "I keep seeing his face. His horrible face." Then the tears began, they flowed from her eyes freely as if they'd been pent up for years. "How did he get out?" she whispered.

"Reynolds told your dad that he'd been let out on parole. Good behavior, apparently. But now he's violated the parole by crossing state lines and by being in the same state as you. I'm having my security head, Welch, look into it. I'll make sure he never comes near you, darling."

"I was so afraid," she said. "For so many years that he would come after me, since what he did to me got him in jail for a long time. I knew he blamed me for it. I think he still might come for me."

"I know, baby. But try not to worry, I promise that he'll never come close to you. I'll kill him myself if he tries."

"Christian, no," she replied. "If he tries, we'll notify the proper authorities and they'll handle it."

"The same authorities that let a child rapist out on parole?" I scoffed.

"Well he should have been out after only 15 years. 12 for the rape and 3 for child neglect as we were 'left in his care' according to the judge. He apparently kept starting fights in prison and having his sentence extended to 25 years. How he got good behavior now is a complete mystery to me. The man is a monster."

"I've no doubt of that, my love. You know I'll protect you right? I'll keep you safe."

"Yes, I know that Christian," she replied. "In your arms is the only place I do feel safe." She curled into me and let me hold her close. "I remember screaming bloody murder, but I can't remember why."

I cringed at the memory. The woman had a good and loud scream, blood curdling. "I think it was because my mother had touched your wrist to check your pulse after you fainted, and when you tried to jerk it away, she reflexively wrapped her hand around it, like a manacle. It doesn't surprise me that it set you off."

"Jack did that," she said. "He had his hand around both my wrists when he held me down. Plus my scars from being tied up all the time, I'm sure that's what caused my reaction. Please apologize to you mother for me."

"Baby, there's nothing to apologize for," I assured her. "She didn't know the extent of your aversion to touch, and feels that she is the one that needs to apologize."

"That wasn't her fault either, though."

"Do you think you want to sleep? Or go sit in the hot tub a while? I could try to make you something to eat."

"No, just hold me. I need to calm myself down, and being in your arms is the best way." She gave me a half smile, but her eyes were still so sad and afraid. I could tell this was the calm before the tempest. If I knew somehow that her sadness and fear would quickly translate to rage. I wouldn't have been surprised if she stood with a jolt, dressed as GI Jane and went on a man-hunt for Hyde, who ironically wouldn't have a place to hide from Anastasia Rose Steele. And God help anyone who got in her way. I certainly wouldn't.

Eventually, Anastasia drifted off to sleep, her grip on my shirt slackening. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Thinking it was Welch, I extricated myself from the bed and answered it quickly. "Grey."

"Oh Christian," Elena replied, sobbing into the phone. Oh god, not her, too.

"Elena? Why are you calling me?"

"Christian, I just found out some terrible news." Did she know about the story already? Why would my mother even tell her?

"What news?" I asked, impatient. I wanted to get back to my girl.

"Well you remember that I gave up a baby for adoption when I was only fifteen," she began. _God damn it, she's drudging that up again? What the hell for?_ "I just recently decided to look for her. And I found out that she's dead. Has been for over 20 years, Christian. I'm just devastated."

"You weren't her mother Elena. Someone else got that privilege when you gave her up," I said coldly. I didn't have time for this. "How did she die?"

"She slit her wrists after giving birth. I don't even know if the baby is still alive! They wouldn't tell me," she said. I froze. That was exactly how Ana's biological mother committed suicide.

"What was her name?" I asked.

"Well _I_ named her Marguerite Isa—"

"I don't give a fuck what you named her, Elena. What was her name when she died?"

"Rebecca Louis," she replied coldly. "Why are you acting like this, Christian? I called you for comfort and you're acting so cold."

"When have you _ever_ called me for comfort, Elena? You know that isn't how I operate. Secondly, I have my own issues to deal with today, and damn it; I didn't need this, too." I debated telling Elena that she had three grandchildren, who happened to be at the very same benefit she was at just over a week before. I could hear Anastasia stirring and I wanted to get back to her. "I have to go, Elena," I said, hanging up. I quickly silenced my phone so she couldn't pester me anymore that day.

"Hey baby," I greeted my angel.

"Hi," she replied. "Did I fall asleep?"

"For a little while," I replied. "I um, have some news." I decided to just tell her the truth. She might even be excited about it.

"About Hyde? Already?" she asked, fearful.

"No, it's different. Slightly related, but different." She blinked at me. "You remember my friend Elena? You met her at the benefit. She said your company designed one of her salons."

"Yes I remember. Mid-fifties, platinum blonde. Why?"

"Well, I have reason to believe that she is your biological grandmother," I said, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible.

"What? Why?" She looked at me as if I'd sprouted a second head.

"She just called me a bit ago, wailing about how she just found out that the daughter she'd given up for adoption when she was fifteen is dead. I asked her what her name was and how she died, she said Rebecca Louis, and that she died by slitting her wrists after giving birth."

Ana didn't respond; she just stared blankly at me. It was like she couldn't take in any more information. Her brain was on overload. After a pregnant pause, she finally spoke. "How did you know my mother's name? I've never told you. I only said Rebecca." Oh shit. Well, it had already been a day of days, I decided to just admit.

"When we first met, when I had intended to ask you to be a submissive, I performed a background check, which I do for all potential subs. I tore it up once I decided against that plan of action, but I had seen a bit of the information first."

"I don't have the energy to be mad about that yet, but you're not off the hook. Did you tell her about me? Or Kate or Ethan?" she asked.

"No, I more or less hung up on her. I didn't have time to deal with her drama too. Besides, you take priority over everything right now. And I thought it would be better if you decided that. Along with Kate and Ethan, perhaps."

"Yeah, where are they by the way?" she asked.

"I heard the front door open and close a few times. I'm not sure who all is here. I haven't left the bedroom except to go out and take Elena's call on the balcony. I thought it was Welch calling with more info about Hyde, but it was her instead. If I'd looked at my phone first, I wouldn't have answered it."

She nodded, her mind still elsewhere. Getting up from the bed, she walked into her closet and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. I followed her out of the room and down the stairs where not only her siblings were, but her parents, my siblings, my parents, Reynolds and Taylor.

"Hello everyone," Ana said as she descended the stairs.

"Oh Ana dear," her mother replied, standing up. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Ana said, sounding empty. "I just want him found so we know he can't come after me and I can move on with my life."

"Miss Steele, our best security investigators are on it," Reynolds assured her. Taylor said something similar of the security at GEH as well. "The most we can do right now is wait to hear from someone."

Ana sat down next to her sister and pulled Kate into her arms. I recalled the story she told me about how she protected her infant sister from that monster. Only five years old and her protective instincts were so strong then. Even more so now. Kate was reveling in her sister's embrace, having never felt it before. I was going to sit on Ana's other side, but Ethan sat there instead, reaching out to his sister, waiting for her to make the first move. She sat back and pulled him into her arms, too. She was completely silent, not crying, not yelling, not even talking. Her face was an emotionless mask. It was like she was numb.

My heart broke for her. I couldn't imagine if I had to face the man that put the burns in my chest and back from his cigarettes. I'd probably let anger take over and kill him, but what would be left of me afterwards?

Eventually, Kate and Ethan pulled out of their sister's embrace and went back to their significant others. I took the opportunity to sit next to her and pull her in my arms. She melted into me, sobbing silently into my neck. She was strong and emotionless in front of her siblings, but as soon as she was in my arms, she let her emotions go, let herself cry. I wondered how many times they had ever seen her cry. As I looked around the room, both her parents and her siblings were gazing at me in awe.

"Call Flynn," I mouthed to Taylor. He knew that meant I wanted Flynn over here. I wasn't sure if Ana was over the session we had with him the other day, but I wanted him here, at the very least, he could help explain what was likely going through Ana's head at the moment.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived, which is nearly exactly how long it would take to get here from his office. Did he live there or something? "Taylor briefed me on the situation, Christian," he said as he approached me and Ana.

"Doctor Flynn?" Ana asked, confused. "Why are you here?"

"Christian asked me here. For support," Flynn replied. "Again, I am so sorry for what I brought up the other day. It was reprehensible and I hope you can forgive me."

"It's fine Doctor Flynn. I'm fine," she snapped.

"Ana, you're not fine, and if you are fine, then there's something seriously wrong with you. It's okay to let yourself feel what's going through your head. You don't have to be strong for anyone. We're all here to support you because we care about you and we want to keep you safe."

Ana seemingly ignored Flynn's words and turned to her siblings. "Apparently we have a grandma," she said to them. They looked at her confused. I was worried, as my parents had no clue of the extent of the relationship between me and Elena. Well, neither did Anastasia for that matter. I remembered referring to a "family friend" when I told her about my training as sub and a Dom, but I never mentioned that said friend was Elena.

"Elena called me," I told everyone. My mother looked at me confused. "She said she tried calling you, mother, but then tried me, thinking I may have still been at your house for the barbecue." I shrugged. "She told me that she recently decided to look for her daughter, that she gave up when she was fifteen. She was crying because her daughter was dead, and had been for at least 20 years. When she told me her daughter's name and how she died, it was the same as Ana's biological mother."

"You're telling me that Elena Lincoln is Ana, Kate and Ethan's grandmother?" My mother asked, disbelief all over her face.

"It looks that way. I mean, I don't know how many twenty year old Rebecca Louis's there could have been in 1992 that ended their own lives that way." I chose not to go into detail; I didn't need to be graphic about it.

"Sir," Taylor said, asking me to step out. "Welch found out some disturbing information about Hyde." I took the phone from him to hear it from Welch directly.

"Mr. Grey," Welch began. "I found out that Hyde was hired under a false name, John Hitchins, by the Newsie as a photographer. The same tabloid that showcased all those photos of you and Miss Steele. He is the one that took those photos. Got a hell of a pay day for them, too."

"Shit," I muttered. "Ana's not going to take this well."

"Ana baby, we have some news on Hyde," I said as I walked back into the room. Everyone looked at me expectantly. "He was the photographer that took all those photos of us for the tabloid magazine. He used a false name. He's going as John Hitchins right now."

Ana looked like I felt, violated, exposed, and very, very angry. "I'm gonna kill that fucker," she hissed.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

* * *

Christian PoV

Once everyone was gone, I had a moment to myself to think. A lot had happened over the past twenty four hours, and I needed to decompress, like Ana said. She had gone to chat with her siblings, and left me to my own devices. I went down to her gym, with her permission of course, and began running on her treadmill.

Ana told me she loved me. She thought of the most romantic and cute way to tell me and then she said it out loud. I was the happiest man in the world at that moment. I was on a mountain top all day. Then the avalanche happened when Reynolds called. I wanted to be angry with him, but I couldn't fault him for only doing what his boss would have wanted.

As I ran, I fantasized about how I would kill Hyde. Ana and I might have to flip for that honor. I wanted him tortured, beaten to a pulp, within an inch of his life. Then brought back to healthy standards only to have to endure the torture again. I never said I wasn't a sadist. And this man did the unthinkable to my Anastasia. He hurt her in one of the worst ways possible, and now he was after revenge due to some twisted idea that she was to blame for him getting thrown in prison.

I did have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that the other prisoners didn't kill him while he was locked up. There are even morals among the thieves and murderers. Arbitrary lines that you do not cross. Raping children is one of them. Perhaps that was why he had his sentence extended by six years. Ana had mentioned he'd gotten into fights. Perhaps he killed prisoners that tried to beat him up for what he did. Perhaps he was tougher than we all thought he was.

Either way, the man was going to die a slow and excruciating death by my and Ana's hands. I'd rot in prison for the rest of time and it wouldn't matter. As long as that fucker was dead. But I wasn't worried about prison time. Given he was already breaking his parole, he was a fugitive, if he attacked, anything I did to him would be considered self-defense. Even more so in Ana's case. She could shoot him in the head point blank and it would still rule in her favor.

I sped up a bit on the treadmill, my thoughts traveling to the other huge topic of the day. Elena was Ana's biological Grandmother. If that wasn't several kinds of fucked up, I didn't know what was. I felt like there were cameras all around me just waiting for the right moment to jump out and tell us we were being punked. A very small part of me wondered if Hyde knew somehow, and put Elena up to that call. But that was just too big a stretch. I knew she'd given up her daughter when she was fifteen. I remember her telling me that when she and I first met.

 _"_ _You're the same age I was when I got pregnant and gave up a baby. All because I was too excited about drinking and gave it up for some free booze. Nine months later, bam, a baby. You will use condoms always, pet, do you understand?"_ she'd yelled at me. Her story was meant to scare me into never having kids, and it worked. I still didn't really want them, and Ana couldn't have them anyway, so it was moot to even think about it.

Then the realization hit me. I fucked Ana's grandmother. Ew. She was in her forties when she seduced me, and she was super-hot then, looked like she was in her early thirties. And now, she could easily pull off forty, even though she'd just turned fifty-six. I had known all along that what we did was dangerous. She could have gotten into serious trouble with the law if anyone ever found out.

Her own husband had found out years later, after I was eighteen. He had no idea that it had been going for so many years before. And I remember well what he did to her. It was amazing that she still looked as good as she did after suffering the beatings from her horrid husband.

I owed the woman a lot, but now that I looked at it, she was wrong to do what she did. She preyed on an unsuspecting teenage boy with raging hormones. I didn't know any better, she was so hot, and it was such a relief to release some of my anger. To learn a way to deal with my emotions aside from drinking and getting into fights. My life really turned around at that point.

But now all I could think about was that she was already a grandma when she and I were together. Ana was only a year younger than me, so she'd have been fourteen when Elena first seduced me. I felt dirty, I felt abused and violated. More than I ever had before. Now I understood fully why Elena always kept our tryst a secret. It wasn't for my protection, but her own. She'd be ruined if it got out that she seduced a fifteen year old boy.

I hopped in the shower that was in Ana's gym and rinsed off the sweat quickly. Once I was upstairs, I found Ana in her bedroom, getting ready for bed. She popped a sleeping pill and offered me one before crawling under the covers. "I hope that keeps the nightmares away," she said. I quickly donned my flannel pants and crawled in behind her. I pulled her close and promised I would do all that I could to keep the nightmares at bay. In the morning, I'd have to tell her about Elena.

* * *

Hyde PoV (a flashback)

Finally free from that wretched place. Prisons were not built to rehabilitate criminals, they were built to make us more lethal, hate the world, and want nothing but revenge against the people who put us there. I spent the past twenty one years building up my connections on the outside. I had a new identity all ready for me. And that little bitch was gonna pay.

She'd have no idea, but I'd kept up on her over the years. It looked like some unsuspecting über rich couple adopted her, and her siblings. She was living in the lap of luxury while I rotted away in a six by eight prison cell. She wanted it. She wanted what I gave her, and she liked it. I remembered her cries of ecstasy.

She'd walk around in skimpy clothes taunting me all the time. If I hadn't been fucking her mother and half a dozen women at the time, I would have had her way sooner. But that day, the anger got the best of me. The little bitch was jealous that her mother gave birth to another girl, that the baby was gonna take her fire, so she took a pair of scissors and killed her mom! That drugged out whore was my meal ticket. She was high as a kite all the time, but she was pretty and she brought in a lot of money.

I remember she'd have four or five tricks a day. Each of them paying a hundred bucks for a sample of her sweet pussy. Then when she was six or seven months pregnant, the prices increased. It was amazing how many sick fucks would pay hundreds of dollars to fuck a pregnant chick. Up until the day she pushed the baby out, she was making me bank.

Then the little bitch had to go and kill her. I almost killed her myself, but then thought about how much money she'd make me too. I had to sample her for myself.

She was so damn tight. My cock still aches for it now, even twenty years later. I wondered if she would still be so tight now. Only if she wasn't a whore like her mother, but usually, like mother like daughter. If the cops hadn't responded to a noise disturbance call, I'd still have the little whore under my wing, answering to me, and doing as I say. Hell, I could have her lips wrapped around my cock right now if things had gone differently.

I found out she owned a company in Seattle. A big one that had architects and interior designers alike working there. Even her little brother and sister had jobs there. A real family outfit. Well, it was all about to come crashing down around her. I was gonna ruin her, physically, emotionally, and monetarily. She was gonna be working the streets begging for even a five dollar bill for a blow job.

When I arrived in Seattle, I had my new ID and quickly got a job at a sleazy tabloid magazine company. They threw a camera at me and told me to find some rich people to take pictures of, and they'd pay me if the pictures were any good. Simple enough.

I thought I had her when I was at that stupid benefit and she put herself up for auction. Still taking money for favors, I noticed. Then some other red-headed prick had to go and outbid me. Who paid a hundred grand for a dance? He was fucked up. I never was able to get close to her again that night. On to plan B I went.

I tracked the little whore to her office and followed her out one day when she was on lunch break. Her skirt kept catching the wind and giving me a glimpse of those milky thighs. Perhaps I needed a change of plans. She was hot stuff. I could get her addicted to drugs, just like I did her mother, and then turn her out. Hell, she could bring in five hundred bucks a john with that sweet little ass.

Then she met up with some young CEO. They kissed and laughed and were very flirty with each other while they had lunch. I found out later that he was some big billionaire, most eligible bachelor in Seattle, and now he'd been seen with her. Hell, I bet I could get him to pay me a nice big sum to not hurt a hair on little Anastasia's head.

Yeah, I just had to bide my time. She'd pay, he'd pay and I'd win. I always won.

* * *

Ana PoV

Christian spent the night at my house after everyone else but Kate and Ethan left. We hadn't heard anything new about Hyde other than the photographer job he got somehow. Apparently Newsie didn't do background checks or fingerprint their new employees.

"Now I'm glad I bankrupted that company," Christian said at breakfast. "Hyde lost his income, though I'll bet they paid him a lump sum for those pictures, so he'll probably be in money for at least a few weeks. I hope we catch him before he runs out."

"He's an alcoholic," I said. "Even if he wasn't given a drop of whiskey while in prison, I'm sure he quickly found himself at the bottom of a bottle when he got out, and has been there ever since. Probably on drugs, too."

"I'll have Welch ask as many dealers as he can find if any of them have sold to Hyde."

"Why would they give up that information?" I asked. "They clam up when cops talk to them."

"Welch isn't a cop for one thing; he's ex-Navy Seal and FBI. And he can be _very_ persuasive when he needs to be." His words were cut off by his phone ringing. "Mother?" he answered. What's going on?"

I waited while he spoke with his mother, trying to cram more food down my throat, though my appetite vanished as of yesterday afternoon when Reynolds called me. He hung up the phone and cursed at the air.

"What is it?" I asked.

"When I mentioned Hyde's false name last night, my mother thought it sounded familiar. When she got home, she went through all her emails and contacts trying to find where the name came from. It was on the guest list from Coping Together. And he'd signed in. He was at the benefit. The one where we met. Apparently he was the other man who was bidding on you for the dance. I was so angry that I wasn't the only one who wanted you, but I never did get to confront the stranger. And now I know that he must have dipped out as soon as the dance started. That fucker!"

My blood ran cold. Again. I wondered if I would ever get warm again. If Christian hadn't been so interested in me, Hyde would have won the auction. Then his hands would have been on me, and I'd have had no clue who he was. Unless he removed the mask of course. "He was there? He knew who I was even then? How the hell did he know all this? There's no way he could have known that I was adopted, name changed to Anastasia Steele, moved to Seattle, and went to that benefit. I had a mask on for god's sake."

"I think his connections go way deeper than we anticipated," Christian replied. I merely nodded in agreement. "Welch is digging, but Hyde has found a way to hide his tracks fairly well." With that, his phone rang again; it was Welch on the line. He put it on speaker for my benefit.

"Welch, you're on speaker. Ana is with me."

"Oh, hello Miss Steele," he greeted. "I have some information on Hyde, sir, ma'am." We waited for him to continue. "The prison was able to divulge to me that when they cleaned out his cell after he was released, they found all kinds of photos of you, Miss Steele. From when you were a kid to just a few months ago. On the back, he'd written lewd phrases like, "die little bitch," or "let a real man show you what it's like," the list goes on, and I'd rather not say them all out loud. It appears that he'd been planning to come after you for some time.

"I was able to speak with a few inmates that knew him and said that he was, and I quote, 'one fucked up son of a bitch.' He'd sing a song that he called little Annie baby, and that's about all he'd do all day when not in his cell, is sing that song and rock back and forth." My stomach rolled. I barely made it to the sink before my breakfast came back up. Christian was right behind me holding back my hair as I retched into the basin.

After several dry heaves, I finally stopped. Christian handed me a glass of water, which I downed, thankfully. "I'm sorry ma'am," Welch said. I hadn't realized he was still on the phone. "I didn't mean to make you ill." Oh god. I blushed beet red. Why didn't Christian hang up before I started vomiting?

"It's alright, Welch. Please continue," I said.

"Well, once he got out, he procured a new ID, as we know. He used it to make his way across the country, picking up odd jobs here and there to make money. But his goal was Seattle. He got hired at Newsie fairly quickly and those photos were taken within a week of him being hired there."

"He was at the benefit, too," Christian told him. "My mother found his name on the guest list."

"Oh, well that explains the tux rental then. This fucker has been all over the damn place. Now that we know, though, it'll be easier to spot him. Easier to keep him from getting close to either one of you."

"Thank you for the update Welch. Keep me posted," Christian said as he disconnected the call.

"I'm not sure how much more of this I can take," I said.

Christian grimaced, looking away from me as if there was something else that I needed to know. "What is it, Christian."

"Listen Ana, there's something you should know. And I'd rather you found out now instead of hearing about it some other way."

"Okay," I replied, confused.

"There's something I have to tell you about Elena."

"Okay," I replied, sitting on the stool again. I didn't like where this was going. What did she have to do with anything?

"You remember how I told you that a family friend introduced me into the BDSM lifestyle?" he began. My mouth dropped open.

"It was _her_? Elena is the women who… oh my god!" I exclaimed. He nodded solemnly. "I thought it was a friend who was around the same age as you, Christian, not some tramp in her forties. Dear god!"

"I'm sorry I wasn't more forthcoming. I didn't think that her age mattered. What mattered is that she got me to channel my anger differently and really helped turn my life around. If it wasn't for her, I'd probably have gone the same way as the crack-whore. I've told you this, Ana."

"Yes, and that was before I knew that this woman was a pedophile. Before I knew that this woman is my fucking grandmother. Jesus Christ! I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to the office. Do not even think about following me." I hopped off the stool, grabbed my purse and dashed out the door before Christian could follow me. All I could see was red. I was so angry, and hurt and scared, I could hardly see straight.

I jumped in my car and drove to Steele Designs, parking in my private garage and taking the elevator up to my office. Once there, I told my assistant to have any calls from Christian go directly to voicemail and do not under any circumstances let him into my office. She was confused, but agreed.

An hour later, my cell phone had twenty nine missed calls and seventeen text messages. All from Christian, begging me to call him back, begging for my forgiveness. Silly man. He wasn't the one that needed forgiveness. Sure I was pissed that he withheld that bit of information from me, but he wasn't the one I was truly angry at. It was _her_. The child molesting troll.

A light knock on the door pulled me out of my doldrums. "Miss Steele? There's a woman here to see you. She says her name is Elena Lincoln."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

Hyde PoV

I parked my car outside Anastasia's palatial mansion. How the hell did she get this house? Did she really make that much money at her job? I bet she fucked her way to the top. Her mom could have done that if she wasn't so hooked on drugs. I only got her on the one drug, but she wanted more. Always wanted more. Looked like little Annie girl was doing much better, which meant even more money for me. Hell, maybe I wouldn't kill her. Maybe I'd just make her my own personal servant. I'd fuck her whenever I wanted. Make her fuck and suck my friends. I could even make more money by filming it and selling it. Yeah, Little Anastasia Steele was going to make me a very, very rich man.

I saw the little twat run out of her house and jump in her Audi Q7. The bitch didn't deserve such a nice car. It would be so much fun to slash those tires and scratch up her custom paint job. Shortly after she left, her red headed boyfriend emerged trying to chase after her. There was something about his hair color that was way too familiar. And the line of his jaw reminded me of something too, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Not that it mattered.

The tabloid I sold those pictures to said his name was Christian Grey, super-billionaire at 27. I'd have to look into his background to see if I could find the connection. In the mean time I'd go to the little bitch's work and try and charm my way into her office. I took off towards downtown and parked my car a couple blocks away from Steele Designs. I'd wait a while before making my move.

A platinum blonde in her forties entered the building on a mission. She looked very fuckable, even though she was more my own age. I usually liked them nice and young, but she'd do in a pinch. I wondered what her business at Steele Designs was.

Shortly thereafter, the boyfriend, Christian Grey walked into the building. He looked desperate but angry, too. Looked like he fucked up somehow, and wanted to fix things. If their relationship was on the rocks, it was the perfect time for me to jump in and tear them apart for good.

I dialed my contact at the police department and asked him for a thorough file on Grey. I wanted to know everything about the little twit. He called back a few minutes later with a summary.

"Adopted in Detroit 24 years ago," he began. "Birth mother was Ella Martin, died due to an overdose when he was four. Then Grace Trevelyan-Gray and Carrick Grey adopted him and moved to Seattle." He went on to talk about Christian's education and business ventures. But then I knew the connection.

I knew his mother. She was my first conquest before I moved to Carolina. She got pregnant so I dropped her ass and left. Given his hair color and the line of his jaw, there was a good chance that Grey was my son. And that made this little plan all the more interesting.

Peyton emailed me the rest of the file, and I skimmed through it. Looked like the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Grey liked to whip women with belts, canes, floggers, the list went on. There were even pictures at my disposal. Peyton deserved a nice bonus for what he just provided.

"Daddy's back."

* * *

Christian PoV

"Sir, someone has accessed your personal background files through the Seattle Police Department," Welch said as I answered the phone. "He's hacked into your home computer somehow, broke through my firewall. I don't know how yet, and stole a bunch of files, including photos of you with your previous um, girlfriends?"

"What? Who?" I demanded. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I had that shit under lock and key! Welch himself built the security system around it, promised me that nothing and no one could ever get in.

"An officer Peyton," he replied. "As I look at his record, he is suspected of being a crooked cop sir; he may be associated with Hyde."

"How the fuck did he break in?" I demanded.

"I haven't figured that out yet sir, but Peyton has a similar background in IT to mine. He might have understood the system and wormed his way in. But as soon as he was in I caught it and shut him out. He didn't get much, but he got enough. I'm sorry sir."

"He's fired!" I told him. "Right now! This minute! Make that happen." I slammed the phone down and ran my fingers through my hair. I had enough brass in this town to ensure the dirty cop was fired in seconds of my demand. The mayor was in my back pocket and the police commissioner and chief of police were both members at my country club. They did what I wanted when I wanted it.

Anastasia ran away from me today. I told her about my past with Elena and she ran. And she told me not to follow her. I didn't know how I was going to obey that command; I needed her like I needed air to breathe.

Worried about what Hyde might do with his new found information on me, I left GEH and ran to Steele Designs in a full sprint. I probably looked like a lunatic sprinting down the street in a three piece suit, my tie flying all over the place, but I didn't care. I had to get to Ana, and I had to get there quickly.

I ran into the building and up the stairs, not bothering with the elevator. I'd never been inside Steele Designs before, but it was obvious that one of their top designers had decorated this building. There was even art in the stairwell. I finally reached the twenty-seventh floor, panting and out of breath.

Anastasia's PA, Anita Baum was fussing over me trying to make me leave. "Miss Steele specifically told me that you are not allowed in her office, Mr. Grey. I cannot let you through." She was a tough little thing; I had to give her that.

"The situation is dire, miss Baum. I would respect Miss Steele's wishes under any other circumstance, but this information cannot wait."

"You can leave a message and I will be sure to inform her as soon as her current visitor has left."

"Current visitor? Who?" I asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say, Mr. Grey."

Before I could press for more information, Ana's office door opened and closed with a slam and an angry threat. I couldn't believe my eyes. What the fuck was _she_ doing there?

* * *

Ana PoV

"Send her in," I clipped.

"Hello dear," she greeted warmly. "Do you remember me from the benefit?" she asked.

"I have eidetic memory, Mrs. Lincoln. I remember everything," I replied shortly.

"Oh, well that must be both a blessing and a curse," she said. "Um, I don't suppose you know why I'm here. Our mutual friend Christian Grey informed his mother that you are evidently my biological granddaughter, and I wanted to officially introduce myself as your grandma."

"I neither need nor want another grandmother, Mrs. Lincoln." She looked crestfallen. Good.

"Oh, I understand. I wanted to look for my daughter many years ago, but my husband at the time wouldn't allow it. I finally was able to recently and I found out she died. Could you tell me about her? If you have eidetic memory, I'm sure you can recall some details of what she was like before she died."

"Yes, indeed I can." Oh she was going to love this. "Your daughter was a prostitute, alcoholic, and drug addict. She hated her children, neglected us most of the time, or would beat us within an inch of our lives when she did pay attention."

"Oh, Anastasia, that can't be true," she replied, pursing her lips. "I'm sure she loved you."

"That's Miss Steele," I snapped. "And you don't believe me? Well take a look at these scars from where she tied me to my crib for days at a time, causing me to nearly die from starvation and from sleeping and breathing in my own urine and feces because she forgot about me and I couldn't hold it anymore." I showed her the scars on my wrists. "Or these scars from where she whipped me with a belt or had her boyfriend do it when she was too blitzed out to aim properly." I lifted up my shirt and showed here the multitude of scars across my back.

"Oh and we can't forget the moment that she gave birth to my baby sister and slit her own wrists with a pair of scissors because she was too much of a coward to own up to her mistakes and actually take care of us. And then that caused her pimp to get really angry and take out on me. He beat me, breaking several bones and then raped me. I was five years old. If that's love, then I don't want to know what she would have been like if she didn't _love_ me." The words came out of my mouth in a bitter, clipped tone. I wanted this woman to know exactly what kind of girl she birthed. Even if she didn't raise her, she gave her life, gave her genetic traits that aided in becoming who she was.

"Ana—Miss Steele… I don't know what to say," she said quietly.

"There's nothing you can say. You were young and stupid getting knocked up at what, fifteen years old? Well, like mother like daughter. She got pregnant with me at sixteen. Made my life a living hell for nearly six years. Thank god I had Miranda to raise me properly and help make me who I am today. You and your unnatural blonde hair and fake breasts can leave." I was seething; smoke was probably pouring out of my ears, sparks out of my hair.

"Anastasia! You will not speak to me that way! I am you grandmother!" she yelled.

"You are nothing! Nothing to me! Don't even pretend like you can have a relationship with me. Like I said, I neither want nor need another grandmother. I already had one who was the most amazing woman on this planet and you couldn't hope to hold a candle to her. Now get out before I call security." I glared at her and she shrunk against the door under my gaze.

She scoffed at me as if she couldn't believe I just spoke to her that way. "Steele Designs will not get any more of my business." She stomped out of the room in her Louboutin knock-offs and slammed the door.

"Thank god," I replied. God I hated that woman. And I didn't even breach the Christian topic with her. That would be another interesting conversation, though I hoped I never had to see the troll again.

I sank into my chair and began to cry. I wanted Christian here, but I was still so angry that I couldn't even imagine what I might say to him. Something I'd regret that was for sure.

"Miss Steele?" Anita said over my desk speaker phone. "Christian Grey is here. He just saw Mrs. Lincoln leave and is insisting he speak with you. I informed him that security would have to remove him if he didn't leave on his own, unless you've changed your mind on that policy today?"

"Yes, he's cleared to enter now." I sat at my desk resting my head on the smooth leather surface, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

"What did she say?" he asked. His tone was cold and quiet.

"She wanted to know about Rebecca," I replied. "And I told her _all_ about her. And then I kicked the troll out."

"Oh, that explains the hysterics, then. Ana, may I please touch you," he requested. I nodded into my desk. He was at my side in a flash, coaxing my head away from the cool surface of my desk. He swept his thumb under my eyes, removing the tears. "Baby, please don't let her affect you. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you about her from the beginning. Please forgive me."

"Christian, when I left this morning it wasn't because I was mad at you. Well, I was a little, but most of my rage was reserved for that bitch troll. She molested you, Christian. I don't care if you were a teenager whose hormones were out of control. She took advantage of a child. And then she showed up here. Why did Grace tell her? Didn't you say it was up to me, Kate and Ethan to make that call?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry, I didn't have the chance to communicate that with my mother. She thought you all were so excited about the idea of having a grandma again that she couldn't contain it. I'll speak with her. Elena shouldn't have just shown up here."

"No, don't blame your mother. She didn't know any better. And she doesn't know about your history with that vile woman. Please tell me that you understand that what she did was wrong." I searched his eyes for understanding.

"Yes, I know it was. I didn't always see it that way. But the moment I realized the gravity of her having already been your grandmother when she seduced me. You would have been fourteen years old. If you'd been in the same school as me, I probably would have fallen for you even then. Instead, she distracted me, and while she did help me, it was for all the wrong reasons, and in all the wrong ways."

"You could still press charges," I said.

"No, I don't think I need to do that. I will pull my investments from her business though; she's made enough to be stable on her own now anyway. I will cut all ties from her, Ana. I promise you that. She'll have no part in our lives, okay?"

"She'd better not," I replied. He smiled at me. "I love you Christian."

"Oh, I'm so happy to hear that today. After everything." He pulled me into his arms. "I love you, Anastasia. More than anything."

"So, other than groveling at my feet for forgiveness, what else brought you by today? Especially when I specifically told you not to follow me today?" I asked.

"I have never groveled in my life, Anastasia, and I certainly didn't today. Secondly, I didn't follow you. I went to my office and then came over here after learning some distressing news."

"Oh now what?" I asked, exasperated. Ever since I met this man, nothing but drama has befallen us. I loved him more than air, but Jesus, when would it end?

"Welch discovered that someone accessed my personal background information, photos of me with my subs, the whole nine. They know nearly everything about me. It was an officer at Seattle PD who was already suspected of being crooked. Welch thinks he may be associated with Hyde."

"For god's sake, this is getting ridiculously out of hand. I want that fucker found and killed as soon as possible."

"Baby, I'll do it myself if it comes to that. I'll do absolutely anything to keep you safe. You know that right?" He leaned his head against mine.

"Yes, I know. Now would be a good time to kiss me," I told him. He grinned and pressed his lips to mine. I responded in kind by threading my fingers into his hair and pulling him to me. I wanted him. Right there on my desk. I made us stand up and I reached down and undid his belt and pants, sliding them and his boxers down to his ankles. I then pushed him back on the desk and climbed atop him.

He was already rock hard and waiting for me. I was very glad I wore a floaty skirt that day as it enabled me to simply slide aside my panties and impale myself on him. My phone was ringing on my desk, and Christian's in his pocket, but I ignored them. I couldn't stop; I didn't want to. "Oh god, baby." He hissed. "Yes, ride me." We hadn't tried it like this before with me making all the moves, but I liked it. A lot. He gripped my hips tightly and helped lift me off him and slam back down.

"Yes, Christian. Oh it's so deep this way," I cried. I bounced up and down on him, rocking back and forth and rolling my hips. I could feel all of him in all of me, and it was glorious. He reached up and pinched my nipples through my blouse. It caused my impending release to rush through me, making my whole body shake with pleasure as I came. He came with me, thrusting up into me wildly as he cried out.

I leaned down and kissed him passionately before lifting myself off of him and climbing off the desk. I quickly fixed my panties, straightened my skirt and smoothed back my hair. "Well, now I know what a desktop quickie is."

"Indeed, Miss Steele." He pulled up his pants and fastened them quickly. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Miss Steele!" Anita barked into the speaker.

"What is it?" I barked back. I was getting irritated with all her pestering. She should have known we were busy when I didn't respond the first three times she tried to call me.

"There's a man downstairs holding several guns and a grenade. He's strapped one of the designers with a bomb and is threatening to blow up the place if you and Mr. Grey don't come downstairs."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

* * *

Hyde PoV

I gathered all my materials from the bed of my truck and made my way into the building. Grabbing the first unsuspecting person I could, I pulled her into the nearby restroom and fitted her with a vest. "Shut up," I said when she began calling for help. I pressed my gun hard to her temple. "Shut up and you just might live. One more peep and this gun will get shoved so far up your pussy you'll be begging me to pull the trigger. Got it, bitch?" She nodded quietly, tears streaming down her face. I loved it when they cried. I leaned forward and licked the tear off her cheek.

"Mm, you taste good, doll," I whispered. "Maybe I should have a taste of you somewhere else, too, eh?" I slide my hand down her chest, squeezing her nipple. I moved lower and cupped her pussy in my hand. Mmm. I bet she was real good. She was shaking her head, begging me silently not to do it. I didn't give a shit what she wanted. I'd have her if I wanted her, and if she didn't give it up, she'd die.

But, I had more pressing needs to deal with. I'd fuck this little kitten later. Maybe I could alternate between her and Annie. Yeah. That would be a fun time. Tie them both up, gag them. Fuck one for a minute, then the other. Make them play eenie-meenie-miney-moe for who gets to take my load.

Yep, I had lots of plans for this blonde little piece and her beloved CEO. Back in the lobby, I pulled her along pushing the gun to the back of her head. "Everyone listen!" I yelled. There were the expected screams, shrieks and gasps that went along with any hold up. "Shut up!" I yelled.

"You!" I said, to the man behind the desk, pointing another gun at his head. I knew he'd already set off the silent alarm, his job description gave that one away. "Call up Anastasia Steele. Get her and her boyfriend down here now."

"Y-yes sir, right away," he said, his hand shaking as he picked up the phone.

All I had to do then was wait. She'd come. I knew she would. And then I'd come. Over and over in her sweet little pussy. And then she'd die.

* * *

Ana PoV

"Have the police been called?" I asked as I scrambled out of my office, Christian right behind me. His arms were wrapped securely around me, helping to keep me together.

"Yes, they're outside, casing the building. The chief of police is on the phone now." She said, handing me my blue-tooth ear piece. I clipped it into my ear.

"Ana Steele," I answered.

"Miss Steele. Are you alright?" he asked, relieved. "This is Chief Reuben of Seattle PD. We're monitoring the situation down here."

"Yes, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"There's a man in your building, who we've ID'd as Jack Hyde alias, John Hitchins who is heavily armed and holding one of your employees hostage. Ma'am he's strapped enough C4 to the woman to take out the entire block."

Oh dear god.

"Have you any idea why he's targeting you, Miss Steele?" he asked.

"Yes, he beat and raped me when I was five, and went to prison for 21 years for it. I suspect he's exacting his revenge." I couldn't believe he was taking it to this extreme. That he was willing to end the lives of probably thousands of people because of his misguided belief that I was to blame.

"I was told he wants me and Christian Grey to come downstairs or he'll blow the building," I replied.

"Yes ma'am. As of now, that's the only demand he's made. I do not want you to come downstairs, Miss Steele. He's got guns trained on the elevator and on the stairwell. If you come down either of those, he could shoot you on sight."

I pondered his words for a moment. "What about the freight elevator?" I asked.

"Where is that, ma'am?"

"Behind my office on the south side of the building. If he's in the lobby, he can't see the entrance from there. And that elevator goes to the basement. We could evacuate most of the building to minimize casualties if he does set off the bomb. Have the nearby buildings been evacuated?" I asked.

"That's a good idea ma'am and yes all the buildings in a two block radius have been emptied." Thank god. The fewer the people that were killed or hurt, the better.

"Get the building as empty as possible. I imagine there's not much we can do for those in the lobby that he can see, but everyone else needs to get out now. That elevator doesn't ding when it hits any floor, so he shouldn't even hear it."

"Good plan ma'am. We're on it." He put me on hold while he dictated to the other parts of the building what to do. I paced back and forth in the waiting area outside my office for him to return to me. I told Anita to go through my office to the freight elevator but she refused.

"My place is with you, Ana," she said, using my name for the first time. "I go where you go." I didn't have the energy to press the matter, so I merely nodded. She deserved a big raise for her loyalty. If we survived the day, anyway.

"Ana, you're not going down there," Christian commanded.

"That's not your decision to make," I told him sharply. "This is my building and my family is inside it. That and hundreds of people whose lives I am responsible for. Not to mention the entire block if that bomb goes off. You do not get to make these demands of me Christian. I am not your submissive; I am not bound to you."

"Ana, please," he said, dropping to his knees in front of me. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You can't go down there."

"He wants both of us, Christian. I don't know why. We have to stop him while we can. He's never been this close before. Well, not that we've known about at least. I know what to do. I know how to stop him."

Finally the chief came back on my line. "Everyone but those in his line of site have been evacuated through the basement, Miss Steele. But while we've been waiting, Hyde has taken another hostage, and strapped an equally large bomb to him.

"Who are the hostages?" I asked.

"According to your personnel photos they are…" he hesitated, probably looking it up in whatever database he had. "Katherine Steele and Ethan Steele. Are they your siblings?"

He had Kate and Ethan. The sick bastard had my siblings, who I swore to always protect wrapped in explosives. All I could see was red. The fucker was going to die. Today.

"What in the fucking fuck!?" I yelled. "Yes, I'm sorry. Yes, they are my siblings. Can I talk to him?" I asked. He acquiesced and somehow patched me through to Hyde's phone.

"Annie girl," he cooed. "It's so good to hear from you. I've missed you sweet thing." I wanted to hurl, only my stomach was still empty from having lost my breakfast down the kitchen sink.

"What do you want, Jack?" I asked, completely out of patience. I didn't want to play his stupid game.

"I only want you, baby. You know that. I waited over 20 years to get back to you. So we can be together like we used to be." What? Good god, the guy was deranged.

"Aww, I'm sorry to say I'm already spoken for. There must be something else you want," I said seductively. I wanted to lay into him, give him a piece of my mind like I did Elena, but given the fact that he had bombs attached to my brother and sister and was pointing guns at anyone else, I decided not to do that.

"Yes, I know… you're dating my son," he said.

"What?!" I screeched.

"Oh, didn't the boyfriend tell you? He's my son. Honestly Annie girl, the red hair should have given it away. And he's got my chiseled jaw. Perhaps he and I could share you. Wouldn't that be fun? Wouldn't you like to get it in both holes at the same time?" It was all I could do to stay calm. Thank god he wasn't on speaker-phone. Christian would be having a conniption. The knowledge would cloud his judgment. That and what Hyde was suggesting would put Christian in to the rage induced haze that I was venturing in. I couldn't let that happen. He needed to remain oblivious.

"So you'll let everyone go if I come down there?" I asked.

"You and my son, yes," he replied. "We're gonna reunite the family, baby." I held back a gag.

"Yes, of course. I'll be right down. Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

"Don't keep me waiting, darling." Bile rose in my throat. I quickly swallowed it down while I reconnected the call to the Chief.

"I'm coming down there, Chief. I have one question first." The answer to this question would determine the next move.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked.

"Can you tell if his detonators have any kind of dead man's switch or anything?" I had to know if the bombs would go off if I killed the bastard.

I waited a few moments for his response. "No, they just have timers. Pretty rudimentary. He's not skilled at bomb making, that's for sure. Shit, he's just activated them. Five minutes ma'am. Then the building goes up. We're at a standstill here. I'm sorry to say that it's up to you, Miss Steele." I glanced at my watch to keep track of the time.

"He better prepare for me, then," I replied. I strode back into my office and into my closet. I retrieved a few items and then headed towards the freight elevator. I was glad I'd come to my office after one of my trips, many necessary supplies were left in that closet that would come in handy. "Christian. Anita. With me," I said. "You'll both be safe. I promise."

We stepped into the elevator and descended to the basement. "You two get out of here. I won't take no for an answer, Christian," I said when he began to protest. "Anita, make sure he leaves. Escort him back to GEH. It should be a safe enough distance away."

"Ana, no!" he yelled.

"Hush now," I replied. "He ultimately wants me, Christian. He'd only use you to get to me. And I can't have that. You need to leave. I have what I need to take him down. And I will." I looked at my watch. Less than four minutes left. I pressed a hard kiss to Christian's lips, pouring all my love into it and shoved him into Anita's arms. She locked her arms around his elbows, holding him in place. I quickly got back in the elevator and closed the doors before Christian could get away from Anita. The elevator stopped on the main floor and opened silently. While in the elevator I'd taken off my shoes so I could walk as quietly as possible.

I rounded the corner trying to figure where Hyde was standing. He was near the door, his eyes darting back and forth to the elevator and stairwell, waiting for me to emerge from either location. The idiot clearly didn't read the blueprints of this building and had no idea of the existence of the freight elevator.

I thanked my father, Ray Steele, silently for making me go to all those archery classes. Hyde would never expect an arrow to fly through the air at his head. I just had to get him far enough away from Kate and Ethan to ensure my clear shot. As of now, he was standing between them.

I pulled an arrow from the quiver and waved it at Ethan. His eyes caught it and locked onto mine. He didn't betray my location, good man. "Move away," I mouthed as I placed the arrow against the bow, clicking it into the notch. He stepped a foot away from Hyde and told Kate to do the same.

Aiming for his neck, I pulled the bow back and waited. Part of me wanted him to see the arrow leaving the bow, but I knew that it would potentially give him just enough time to dodge the arrow, and I couldn't have that. Just as I was about to let go of the string, I heard Christian's voice.

"Here we are, Hyde," he said. What the fuck was he doing? Hyde turned away from me but was still in my line of sight and therefore right in my aim. I could see Christian on the other side of the lobby holding Anita in his arms, aiming a gun at Hyde. Where the hell did he get a gun? Anita was turned around, so Hyde wouldn't have known it wasn't me. Her hair was nearly the same shade as mine and just as long.

Ethan's eyes darted back and forth from me to Hyde to Christian, trying to figure a way for everyone to survive. Little did he know, Hyde was not going to live to see the building come down.

"You're just in time!" Hyde declared aiming the gun at Christian. No! "Now I can kill both of you."

I released the string just as Hyde pulled the trigger. The arrow sunk into his neck, puncturing his carotid and his airway. He would choke on his own blood until he died. A nice and painful death. He dropped to his knees, gasping for air that would never come. I looked over and Christian was on the floor, a bewildered Anita standing next to him, trying to figure out what just happened. No.

Blood pooled around Christian. I ran across the lobby, ignoring my siblings' calls. "Christian!" I yelled.

"I'm okay, baby," he said. "He got me in the shoulder. Your arrow changed his gun's aim just enough. You saved my life."

"Get the EMTs in here now!" I yelled at anyone else in the building. Within seconds they surrounded Christian, pulling me away from him. With nothing to do but wait for their determination, I turned to Hyde. He was still kneeling on the ground, grasping at the air. I strode over to him, smirking.

"You thought you'd win, didn't you?" He coughed and spluttered up blood, his eyes filled with hate. "You underestimated me, Jack. Now you can go join Rebecca in hell." I pulled the arrow out of his neck, watched the blood spray out of the wound and jammed it into his eye, piercing his brain. Killing him instantly. When several more EMTs arrived to attend to him, there was nothing they could do but call the time of his death.

"I could have you arrested for murder, Miss Steele. But you saved a lot of lives today," the chief said as he approached me. "I think we'll let this one slide." He held out his hand to shake mine. I took it graciously. "You're also incredibly stupid. Miss Steele. But I thank you for what you did. Everyone gets to go home today, everyone gets to live. Well, not this guy, but he was headed for the chair anyway."

"Do me a favor, chief?" I asked.

"Anything for the savior of Seattle," he replied, smiling.

"Oh that's a rubbish title, don't call me that," I joked. "Would you test Hyde's DNA against Christian's? Hyde said he was Christian's father and I… I just have to know. If he is, I'll tell Christian, but I don't want to say anything until we know for sure."

"Understood. I normally couldn't do that, but given the circumstances… you'll have the results, first thing," he agreed. I thanked him and he left to go help take some more statements from the other witnesses.

Once Kate and Ethan had the explosives removed from their torsos they ran to me, wrapping their arms around me. I was so glad I'd gotten past my aversion to touch. This was the greatest feeling ever. "I'm so glad you two are okay."

"What were you thinking, Ana?" Ethan asked.

"Your arrow against his guns, a grenade and all those explosives? Are you crazy?"

"I had the element of surprise, Ethan, to use a cliché. He had no idea about the freight elevator. It was the perfect plan. And it worked. We're all safe and he's dead."

Kate was sobbing uncontrollably. I knew he'd strapped her up first. "Are you okay, Kate?" I asked. She shook her head and then launched herself at me again, crying against my shoulder. I stroked her hair. "It's okay baby sister. I would never let anything happen to you."

"He was going to rape me, Ana. He licked my tears off my face and then he… he touched me. Through my clothes, but I felt so dirty. Ana, how did you ever get over that?"

"I didn't Kate," I admitted. "I was afraid of men my entire life until I met Christian. I was even afraid of Dad and Ethan. Even though I knew neither of them would ever hurt me. I was constantly terrified."

"But… you're Steele. You're my superhero. You've always been so strong and so protective. Why didn't you ever tell me how afraid you were?"

"It was my job to protect you, Kate. I swore to you as a baby that I would always take care of you. That I'd always keep you safe. I put on a brave face and did that your whole life. I had to."

"Oh Ana," she cried, squeezing me tighter. "It's so wonderful to hug you like this. I never thought I'd get to. Whatever Christian is doing, he better keep it up. Where is he anyway?" she asked.

"Um, he was hit. Hyde shot him." She gasped. "He's okay. He got him in the shoulder. The EMTs are working on him now." I pointed to the swarm of people with baby blue shirts and navy blue pants that were scrambling around my man. He kept calling for me, making a fuss, and making their jobs much harder. He kept shouting for them to stop touching him. The poor thing was relapsing to the do not touch version of himself. He needed me.

I walked over to him, the EMTs parted like the red sea, and I knelt next to him. He was panicking. Too many people were touching him at the same time. But all his flailing was making his wound worse. "You need to calm down, baby," I told him. "You need to let these people do their job and save you. I need you to stick around for a few more decades. Can you do that?" I asked, my voice soft and loving. "Can you let them touch you for me? They can't help you if they can't touch you, baby. They're not going to hurt you. They're only trying to save you."

He relaxed under my touch. I stroked his forehead and his hair, trying to keep out of the way of the paramedics working on his shoulder. They were trying to get the bullet out so they could stop the bleeding. But his flailing made the bullet go deeper which complicated things. I whispered into his ear, keeping him calm and soothed. He closed his eyes and reached his uninjured arm up to hold my hand. I squeezed his fingers tightly, bringing them to my lips and kissed each one individually.

A few minutes later, they managed to stop the bleeding and got him onto a stretcher. He was holding onto my arm for dear life, and demanded that I ride in the ambulance with him even though I wasn't technically related to him. Finally the EMTs acquiesced and I hopped in behind him.

"Can I use my phone?" I asked. "Has anyone notified his parents?"

"Yes to the phone, and I don't think so to your other question," one of the medics replied. I quickly dialed Grace's number at the hospital where we were headed.

"Grace, it's Ana," I said.

"Ana? Are you alright? I heard about the bomber at your building."

"Yes I'm fine, the bomber is dead. Christian and I are on the way to the hospital. Um, Grace, he was shot."

"Oh my God!" she yelled. "What happened?"

"I think your son is as stubborn as me. The bomber was after me. It was Jack Hyde. I went down with a plan and Christian almost ruined it by trying to play the decoy. I shot Hyde and Hyde shot at Christian, hitting him in the shoulder. They've pulled out the bullet and stopped the bleeding, but he's going to need surgery, I think. We're in the ambulance right now, headed towards your hospital. I wanted you to know before we rolled through the ER and you found out the hard way."

"Oh honey," she cried. "I'm in the ER today, too. I'll be there. I'll see you both soon." And she hung up. I hoped she'd call the others. I didn't want to have to retell that story again.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

Ana PoV

When we arrived at the hospital, Christian was rushed into an OR, Grace with him. I was made to stay behind. Being apart from him was some kind of agony, especially when I didn't know how he was doing. I was directed to a waiting room where Mia, Elliot, and Carrick were already waiting. They each jumped up and pulled me into an embrace.

"The police said you saved his life. That you saved everyone's lives," Carrick said. "Thank you, sweet girl." Elliot and Mia gave me similar words of encouragement. And instead of feeling trapped in their arms, I felt loved.

Soon my parents arrived with Kate and Ethan. We were all wrapped up with each other in one big Grey-Steele embrace.

"I just knew I had to stop him, and that the only way he would stop was to die." At that moment, the adrenaline had receded and my mind cleared. I'd taken a life. A life that didn't deserve to continue, but nonetheless. His blood was on my hands. I looked down and saw that a spray of blood was on my shirt. From when I pulled the arrow out of his neck. "Oh god, what did I do?" I whispered.

If it weren't for the arms encircling me, supporting me, I would have slumped to the floor. "Nurse!" Carrick called out. "She's fainted." I saw a nurse rush into the room before everything went black.

* * *

Christian PoV

Where was Ana? I felt it the moment she let go of my hand. I began panicking again, screaming for her, begging for her to come back to me. Why did she let go?

"Christian, sweetheart, you need to calm down," I heard a familiar voice say.

"Mother?" I asked.

"Yes darling, it's me. Can you calm down for me, please?" she asked, soothingly.

"Where's Ana?"

"She's in the waiting room with your father, Mia, and Elliot," she answered. Oh. That made sense. But I needed her here. She was the only thing that kept me calm. I told my mom as much. Being the head of the ER department, she had the authority to do whatever the hell she wanted, pretty much. "Go and see if Ana can be scrubbed up and brought in here," she told someone.

I waited and waited and waited for her to arrive, and she didn't. "Christian, honey, Ana fainted in the waiting room," Mother said.

"What? She needs me! I have to go to her!" I yelled, trying to sit up and get off the damn gurney.

"No Christian, what she needs is for you to let your surgeons work on you so your arm can heal. You're only making it worse, exacerbating the wound and prolonging your recovery period. Ana is fine; she just got overwhelmed with everything. Please lay back and let us work." Apart from Ana, my mother was the only person who could calm me. Her words worked over me like a soothing balm, lulling me into relaxation. Then came the anesthesiologist. I drifted into sweet oblivion thinking of tropical islands, my Ana with a flower in her hair, flowing in the breeze, a bright blue sundress on and bare feet. We romped in the sand and chased each other along the beach. It was heaven.

* * *

Ana PoV

When I came to, I was in a hospital bed, an IV stuck in my arm and I was wearing one of those scratchy hospital gowns. "Christian," I moaned.

"He's still in surgery, honey," someone said. I opened my eyes to see my mother standing at the foot of my bed. My dad was in the room too, having just looked up from his newspaper.

"Hi," I murmured. "What happened?"

"Well, you fainted, honey. The doctor said you were overwhelmed by what happened, and surmised that you hadn't eaten or drank anything, so the lack of energy caused you to pass out."

"I threw up after breakfast," I told them. "And then everything happened at work, and I couldn't very well eat while I was trying to kill Hyde. Oh God, I killed Hyde!"

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," my Dad said as he came over and sat next to me on the bed. "I hoped none of my kids would ever have to know that feeling. Even though it was self-defense. Even though you did it to save many more lives, one never gets over the feeling of taking a life." I leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around me. I sobbed silently into his shoulder while he rocked me back and forth. My Mom appeared on the other side of my bed, stroking my hair softly.

"The doctor wants you to eat this soup as soon as you can," she said pulling a rolling tray over my lap. "It's just chicken noodle soup and some oyster crackers. Eat whatever you can keep down, honey."

I dug into the soup once the aroma hit my nostrils. It smelled divine. I was finished within minutes and a nurse came in and took away the empty tray, handing me a small cup of water and some pills. "What are these?" I asked.

"To help you sleep and for pain," she said.

"I don't want to sleep, and I'm not in any pain," I answered.

"Doctor's orders," she told me.

"What doctor? I want to speak with this doctor." She said she'd go get him and bring him back.

A few minutes later a young doctor with pitch black hair slicked back 1920s style strolled in. "Hello Anastasia. I'm Doctor Vincent. I understand you're reluctant to take your meds?"

"Well, I'm not tired and I don't need to sleep. I'm not in any pain so these painkillers are useless. All that happened was I fainted due to being overwhelmed and having no food in my stomach. It happens. I don't need this IV, nor to be in this hospital bed. I'd like to go back to the waiting room with my family while my boyfriend is going through surgery."

"You should rest, Anastasia," he said placing his hand over my hand, almost gripping my wrist.

"Please let go of me," I whispered, fighting off a panic attack. I still didn't like strangers touching me, especially my wrists. My dad all but threw him out of the room for being inappropriate.

"I'll handle it Ana, just you hold on a few minutes," he promised me. I waited. And during that time, Kate, bless her came in the room with a bag of clothing. "After you fainted, I ran home and got some clean clothes for you. I might have taken a shower, too and nearly scrubbed my body with bleach."

"There's a reason you're my favorite sister," I told her as I hopped off the bed, pulled the IV out of my arm and got dressed. There was a lot of beeping and alarms going off. The nurse came in to see what was going on and saw my IV hanging limply to the floor.

"You haven't been cleared to remove that, Anastasia. You were severely dehydrated."

"Be that as it may, I feel fine now. And I will not be kept here while the love of my life is fighting for his life in the OR," I retorted.

I strolled out of the room, the nurse and one of her colleagues chasing after me. I went back into the waiting room nearest Christian's OR and found his family and Ethan waiting there again. "You've been let out already?" Carrick asked.

"I let myself out," I replied. "No need for them to waste hospital resources on me when I'm perfectly fine. How's Christian?" I asked.

"They've finished surgery. But he hasn't woken up yet. They said that he may never get full use of his arm again. The bullet and all his flailing about afterwards damaged his rotator cuff," Carrick explained. "They said once he wakes up that you can go in and see him first. It's what he would want. Your face to be the first thing he sees." My heart warmed at his words.

"Carrick, I love your son very much," I told him.

"I think you proved that today," he replied. "They said your arrow threw off Hyde's aim just enough. The bullet could have killed him, but instead he'll have a lame shoulder. I think we can consider that a win." He pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly.

"Excuse me," I heard a familiar voice say. I turned and saw Chief Reuben standing in the doorway to the waiting room. "Miss Steele, may I have a word with you?" he asked. I knew instantly what he was going to tell me. He had the results of the DNA test. Already. How long was I unconscious for? Didn't those usually take days?

"You have the results," I guessed. He nodded. "And?" He looked down for a moment, frowned and nodded once, solemnly. And I had my answer.

Jack Hyde was Christian's biological father.

I slumped into a chair and put my head in my hands. Christian would not be happy about this. He would be devastated. His self-loathing would sky-rocket. Flynn and I may never get him to come back down. I couldn't tell him; I couldn't _not_ tell him. It was such a mess, and I didn't know what to do.

I rocked back and forth in that chair, crying quietly to myself. The instant I felt someone's hand on my shoulder blade, I stiffened. I knew without knowing who it was, that it was someone I did not want touching me. "He'll be alright, dear," I heard the most horrid voice in the world say.

Elena Lincoln.

I sat up abruptly, shrugged off her hand and glared at her. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I yelled.

"Grace called me. I'm here to make sure you're alright," she answered as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "And Christian of course, too," she added. "I've known him a very long time."

All I could do was snort in reply. She pursed her lips at me.

"Grace tells me that you and Christian are rather serious. Even though you just met," she said. I tried as hard as I could to ignore the wench. "But as your grandmother, I feel I should warn you. Christian has a lot of skeletons in his closet, and I don't think you should go down that path with him, what with your past and all. He could hurt you, Ana." I glared at her again, seeing her affectionate smile. I wanted to tear the smile off her face.

"I guess _I_ can be the one to tell you, since I know him better than his own mother does." She knew very little about Christian, despite her assumptions to the contrary. "Oh, if she knew about the things he likes…. I don't know if you've been to his house, but he has a room that, well, it could be quite scary and dangerous for someone like you. Someone who isn't in the lifestyle."

"Dammit Elena, I already know!" I yelled, cutting her off. "You don't need to put his business out into the street like that. Especially when you're the one who made him that way!" She gasped. "He and I have already told each other _everything_. I mean _e-ve-ry-thing_. And on top of that, you don't get to have an opinion. I already told you that I had a wonderful grandmother that you can't hold a candle to; I don't need or want another one. Especially when said grandmother is a pedophile! I was raped and beaten when I was five years old; why on earth would I want a pedophile for a grandma?!"

"A pedophile?" Grace asked, poking her head out from around the corner. I hadn't realized I was talking so loud. "Anastasia, why on earth would you accuse Elena of such a thing?"

"Why don't you ask her?" I hissed. "And Elena, you had better tell the truth, or I promise your fate will be the same as Hyde's." Carrick strode up next to Grace, staring at Elena as if she was a complete stranger, and glancing at me with an odd expression too.

"I… um… I… that is…" she stumbled over her words unable to look any of us in the eye. "When Christian was fifteen… well you remember what he was like. Drinking, getting into fights, failing his classes. He was a mess. I… well I helped him get past his anger at the world, channel it in a more constructive manner."

"Constructive," I scoffed. "You molested a fifteen year old boy, seduced him into having sex with you and beat him for five years. I'd hardly call that constructive."

"Elena?" Grace bit. "Is this true?" All the color drained from Elena's face as she realized what she was about to reveal to her dearest friend.

"No! Of course not!" Elena defended. "I taught him a new way to channel his anger, and he willingly agreed to learn and to be my student. Everything was completely consensual."

"He was fifteen years old, you whore!" I yelled. "Regardless of what his words were, that is legally _not_ consent."

"You know nothing about our lifestyle. How dare you judge me?!" she replied. Oh this wench had a slap coming to her and I couldn't tell if it was going to be me or Grace that delivered it.

"I know plenty, Elena. You'd be surprised. Either way, you're a sexual predator, and you preyed on a young boy who had enough problems as it was. You manipulated him into having sex with you and then you beat the shit out of him for kicks," I seethed.

"Get out," Grace said very quietly. "If I ever see or hear from you again, Elena. So help me god."

Elena spluttered a bit and stumbled a few steps, likely shocked at what just went down, and then left the hospital. I had a feeling she was going to confront me again later, or Christian perhaps. But she knew what I did to Hyde. She was well aware of my capabilities, and that I would do absolutely anything to keep those I love safe.

"How did you know?" Grace asked me.

"Christian told me," I replied. "As I told her, Christian and I have shared everything with each other. It's been a fast but a very deep journey. He first told me it was a family friend, and then when we learned that she was my biological grandmother, he told me exactly who she was to him. He knows it was wrong, Grace. He realized that she manipulated him."

"I always wondered what happened that made his life turn around," she answered. "It was like an overnight change. He suddenly stopped fighting, stopped getting in trouble and did better in school. All because she was… oh god, I can't even think of it.

"What kind of a mother doesn't realize something is going on? I was just so happy that he was doing better, I didn't even think about what the cause of it was. Never in a million years thought that Elena was doing something to him. I knew she hired him to do some work at her house. Work indeed."

"Grace, it isn't your fault. You're a wonderful mother. I was headed in the same direction Christian was, but I had a very loving grandmother who was able to help me see things differently. She helped open me up to my parents, helped me realize they were there to help me that they loved me unconditionally. You did the same for Christian, but he didn't have that outside source to help him like I did.

"Your son and I are cut from the same cloth, and we have many of the same demons. Little by little, I'm helping him get over his in a way that Elena's 'training' never could. You've done so much for him; you saved his life when he was little. He loves you and adores you. I know that much."

"You are the most amazing woman," she told me as she pulled me in for a hug. "You had better marry my son someday. I want to call you my daughter." All I could do was smile at her words.

"I fully plan to, Grace," I agreed.

"Miss Steele?" A nurse called out, poking her head out of Christian's room. "He'll wake soon. And he'll want you," She said, giving me a small smile. The hospital was doing a lot for us today. Not forcing me to go back to my room and the unnecessary meds. I nodded, removed myself from Grace's embrace and strolled into the room.

He looked so pale and hurt. His arm was bandaged up tight, immobilized against his side. I wondered how long his recovery period would be. He'd hate to not be able to use his arm for long. I pulled a chair close and sat by his side, holding the hand of his uninjured arm in both of mine.

A few minutes later, his eyes fluttered open. "Anastasia," he breathed. He hadn't looked at me yet but he knew I was there. I stood up and leaned over him, so he could see me. He smiled his megawatt smile. "You came back for me," he whispered.

"I'll always be here, Christian. I love you so much." I leaned down and pressed my lips to his temple. He angled his face up, puckering his lips at me. I giggled and kissed him fiercely. "Do you have any idea how furious I am with you?" I asked.

"Furious? Why?" he asked, surprised.

"You deliberately went against my orders to get the hell out of that building and put yourself within Jack's gun range. He shot you, Christian. He could have killed you." I stood up and folded my arms over my chest, waiting for his excuse.

"I wanted to give you a better shot of catching him off guard. And I couldn't stand being away from you. I wanted to protect you from him."

"You put yourself in danger; you made me hesitate, Christian. If I'd waited a sliver of a second longer he'd have shot you in the heart and you'd be dead," I told him. "I shot when I did and his trajectory changed enough to hit you in the shoulder."

"You're the one that went running to him," he countered. "You put yourself in danger." Oh for the love of god, we weren't getting anywhere.

"I had the situation under control. He didn't even know I was there. I had a shot and I was about to take it when you walked up. Hell, he didn't even know I was the one that shot him until I walked right up to him and told him as much. _You_ are the one that called out to him, made your presence known, and what happened? He fucking shot you!"

"And you saved my life, baby," he whispered. "I love you Anastasia. I couldn't bear to make you face him alone. I see that I went about it all wrong. All I wanted to do was distract him so you could get a clear shot, Anita was all for the plan. She hated that you made us leave. She's the one that suggested that she pretend to be you."

"I'll be having words with her later," I added. "Christian, if you had died, I don't know what I would have done. We've known each other all of five minutes, but you've changed my life so irrevocably. My family can hug me now. I let your family hug me. That alone makes you the best thing in my life. And there are still more things that make that so."

He picked up my hand and brought it to his lips. "Is everyone here?" he asked.

"Yes, shall I show them in?" He nodded.

I left his side for a moment to call everyone in. Grace and Carrick were the first through the door, wanting a moment with their son alone. He asked for me to stay by his side, so I simply held his hand and sat near him while he spoke with his parents.

After they gushed over his surgery and his recovery and how stupid he was to put himself within range of that deranged bastard, Grace brought up the elephant in the room. "Christian… when you're ready. I want you to talk to me about Elena. I want you to tell me exactly what she did to you."

He looked at me, a look of mistrust on his face. I shook my head. "Don't you dare blame Ana. She confronted Elena and I overheard. Elena admitted it and I need to know what happened."

"Okay Mother. I'll tell you," he said quietly.


	19. Chapter 19

Sorry I didn't get any chapters uploaded yesterday. Real-life pulled me away from my house all day so I never got a chance. I'll be posting up through chapter 25 today. Also, please stop by my website, craftyrivers dot com and check out my original novel Dreamland Café. Chapters 1-3 are posted there. As always, thank you for reading and thank you for reviewing!

Chapter 19

* * *

Christian PoV

Everything hurt. My shoulder most of all. I absently pushed the button in my hand for more morphine. I had sworn to never succumb to drugs, but I couldn't help it. The pain was too unbearable. Where was Anastasia?

I opened my eyes and there she was. With the lamp behind her, she glowed. She was an ethereal being and just the mere sight of her melted away all my pain. "Anastasia," I breathe. "You came back for me."

"I'll always be here for you Christian," she assured me. "I love you so much." When she kissed my temple, I leaned my face upwards, puckering my lips. At her giggle, I warmed inside from the roots of my hair to my toes. She kissed me fiercely; I felt actual anger in her kiss. "Do you have any idea how furious I am with you?"

And so it began. We argued for quite some time over who was more stubborn and idiotic when it came to the Jack Hyde situation. I admitted, albeit to myself, that my plan wasn't all that well thought out, and Ana's was slightly better. Though I'd never say that out loud. She was still within a dangerous distance of a mad man with bombs, guns and a grenade.

Then the ball was dropped. My mother asked me about Elena. More specifically, she asked about what we did when I was a teenager. A feeling of distrust flitted across me and I glared at Ana. My mother was quick to tell me that Ana was not at fault, that Elena had admitted it. Well then I felt sheepish for the fleeting thought. I squeezed Ana's hand, forgiving her and asking for her forgiveness in return.

"What did Elena say?" I asked.

"Never mind what Elena said, Christian. I want to hear it from you," my mother replied. Oh shit.

"Well, if you recall, I went to work for Elena and Linc when I was a teenager. One day she brought me a glass of lemonade when I was out in the sun working really hard. I made some off-hand possibly inappropriate comment and she slapped me. It was the first time anyone had touched me in I couldn't remember how long, and I certainly hadn't been hit since before…

"It was angering and refreshing and terrifying all at the same time. Then she kissed me. She showed me a world where I could expunge the anger that was brewing beneath the surface. And for the next six years, I was her submissive, she the Dominant. I let her punish me and then we'd have sex." My mother began wailing. I decided to go ahead and tell her everything. "I know now that it was very, very wrong mother. I didn't at the time. I knew enough to never tell anyone, but that was more so because I knew she'd punish me severely if I did. After she taught me everything she knew, I transitioned from being a submissive to being the Dominant. And then for the next six years, it worked for me." Ana squeezed my hand. "Well, I thought it was working."

"So you're telling me that you _haven't_ been celibate all these years?" my mother asked.

I smiled. "No mom, I haven't. I hardly thought you'd be interested that my personal life included _that_. So I never mentioned it, and I never brought any of the women to meet you. They weren't girlfriends, mother. They were submissives. I had no emotional connection with any of them, and that may seem horrible of me, but it was the way I operated. I couldn't handle the emotions that were within me, so I didn't let anyone get close to me. And then Ana came along and she threw my world out of orbit.

"I began feeling again. More than just anger. I felt happiness, sadness, joy, and utter elation. This woman has changed me irrevocably. In less than two weeks, she's got me wrapped around her little finger, and thinking of the future. Of marriage and so forth. I haven't asked her yet, but I'm definitely going to."

"Christian," Ana whispered. I looked up at her and she had tears in her eyes. At my worried expression, she shook her head. "They're happy tears, baby."

"Is there anything else you want to know, Mom? Dad?" I asked them.

"No, son," my dad replied. "I think we know more than we ever thought we would before. My question is, do you wish to press charges against Elena? I sure as hell want to."

"Well, given that she's been harassing my girlfriend at length, I'm not against it at this point," I replied.

"Well, as a physician," my mother added. "I'm required by law to report it. Even though it happened some time ago, I have to." I nodded my understanding.

My parents left the room, leaving me with my one and only. "I meant it, you know." I told her.

"Meant what?"

"Wanting to marry you," I said. "Marriage was never anything that registered on my radar until you entered my life."

"Mine either," she agreed. "I want to hold you right now. I want to wrap my arms around you."

I scooted over as far as I could without hurting my arm. "Then climb in, baby."

"Won't I get in trouble?" she asked.

"Not if I tell them I need you here. You're my therapy, Ana. You're the one that's going to get me through this injury. Every touch and kiss from you is a healing balm on my body. I'll be out of these bandages and back in bed with you, making sweet love with you for days on end, in no time."

"Don't get me all riled up when we can't do anything about it," she teased. She climbed into the small hospital bed with me and wrapped her arm around my torso. Resting her head on my chest, I pulled her tight against me with my free arm and stroked her back.

"How are you doing, Ana?" I asked her.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? I'm not the one that got shot today."

"Yes, but you did something today that can change a person irreparably."

"I killed Jack Hyde," she said. "I know I did. And I have to rationalize that he deserved it, and that he would have gotten the death penalty if the police had intervened before I did. And that's if they didn't shoot him first. And I'm a pacifist, Christian. I'm not a fighter, until someone threatens someone I love. Then I'm fierce and lethal. He had my brother and sister wearing enough C-4 to take out half of Seattle, and you were in the building. That was enough to set me on a murderous rampage."

"They said you pulled the arrow out of his neck and stabbed him through the eye with it. Is that true?" Elliot asked popping his head into the room. That was news. She did what?

"Yes, that's true," Ana admitted. I tried to imagine her doing it and the imagery was coming up short. He deserved cruel and unusual torture for sure, but it was hard to picture my Ana doing that.

"That's awesome!" Elliot exclaimed. "You just became my hero! And don't get too rough with him in that bed, little sis. I'm not sure he can take your wild ways." I grabbed a nearby empty cup and threw it at him. He ducked it expertly and then scampered out of the room. Elliot had no idea about my own wild ways, let alone Ana's. And it was going to stay that way.

Ana settled herself against me and we fell asleep in each other's arms. I awoke to the nurse arguing with a very distraught Ana. She was apologizing profusely for crawling into my bed, assuring the nurse that I wanted her there. "She's right," I said. "I feel better with her in my arms. I don't even need the morphine when she's with me."

"Just don't jostle him too much," the nurse admonished. "Mr. Grey. Your breakfast is here," she added gesturing to the tray on the rolling table. I nodded my thanks and Ana carefully climbed off of me.

She lifted the cover on the plate and grimaced at it. "I can do better than that," she said. Her phone was out of her pocket and at her ear and within minutes, Reynolds came strolling through the door carrying bags of food from Constantine's. Yum.

"You're a good man, Reynolds," I told him as I dug into one of the bags. He nodded at me and ducked out of the room to hang out with Taylor. Ana told me they'd become friends.

As we ate, Ana seemed a little distant. I could tell there were a million things running through her mind. When I asked her about it, she said she was just processing everything that happened. I remembered the last time she told me she had to process, she ended up leaving me for a night, nearly killing herself by exercising too much, sent me in a panic that she was going to break up with me, and then ended up telling me she loved me by making alphabet pancakes.

As much as I loved the way she expressed her feelings, I didn't want her going anywhere. "You're not going to leave me again, are you?" I asked.

"What? No. Of course not. Why on earth would you think that?"

"Well you're acting all distant and you say you need to process what happened. The last time you did this, you spent the night away from me and it nearly tore me apart, worrying that you weren't ever going to come back to me."

"Christian, baby, I'm not leaving you. I have no intention to do so. I'm sorry if what I said made you think otherwise. I had to process you and me at that time, and I needed time away from you to do that. Right now I'm not processing our relationship. Just what all has happened in the past few days.

"My rapist comes into town demanding revenge; I find out I have a biological grandmother and that she's the very woman who molested you as a kid. Then Hyde makes an attempt to blow up my building, assaults my sister, shoots you, and I killed him. It's a lot. A whole lot." It still seemed like there was something she was holding back from me.

"You can tell me, baby. I can take it." She looked at me confused. "I can tell there's something you're not saying. What is it?"

"Um, well, Hyde made a reference to tag teaming me and my sister. And it is disturbing." She answered. That wasn't it. Well, I was sure that it did bother her, but it wasn't what was keeping her so distant. There was something else that she was keeping to herself. I decided not to press her on it, but she needed to tell me eventually. I wouldn't have something come between us.

* * *

Ana PoV

Okay, so Christian knew I was hiding something. I wasn't exactly _hiding_ it; I just didn't know how to best tell him that the man who raped me also provided half the genes in his DNA. It wasn't something I could just bring up over tea and crumpets. "Hey babe, by the way… remember that guy I killed? Yeah the rapist that shot you and wanted to blow up half of Seattle using my brother and sister as ground zero… well guess what I found out? He's also your dad! Small world, right?" Yeah, no. That would not go over so well.

I was glad that he told his parents about the Troll. She and Hyde could have shared a cell in prison. Before long the doctor came in and told Christian that he needed to stay a couple more nights, to ensure the surgery didn't have any complications. Then he'd be on bed rest for at least a week before he could consider going back to work in any capacity. I knew he'd have a big problem with that.

After visiting hours were over, I was yanked out of the hospital by my family. They wouldn't let me stay with Christian, no matter how hard I begged. He even said he wanted me there, but I was ordered to my room like a twelve-year-old child, and only allowed to return during visiting hours again the next day.

In the meantime, I met with Flynn. He came right to my house, sat in my living room while I stared at the wall.

"Ana, you've been through one hell of a trauma. You need to talk about it," he told me.

"I did. With Christian," I answered. "I don't need to speak about anything to anyone. I'm fine." Even I knew he could tell I was lying.

"That's simply not true, Ana, and you know it. This therapy is required by law now, you know. You killed a man. Even though it was categorized as self-defense, I know you had an emotional connection with the man. You killed him deliberately. And we need to discuss the ramifications of that action."

"Ramifications? You say it like I made a sour business deal and have to deal with the fall out. He raped me, Flynn. He assaulted my sister, wrapped her and my brother in bombs for god's sake. He was deranged. When I talked to him on the phone, he kept going on about reuniting his family."

"He considered you a daughter?" Flynn asked, confused.

"No, he considered me his personal property, like a sex-slave and Christian his…." I trailed off realizing I was about to let the cat out of the bag. But not to Flynn. Flynn didn't need to know that.

"Considered Christian his what, Ana?"

"Nothing. Never mind. He didn't say anything other than that Christian was his competition and talked about whose dick was bigger," I lied.

"Is that so?" he asked. I ran through the conversation I had with Hyde on the phone, trying to find any other detail I could use.

"He said he wanted to share me with Christian."

"That has to be disturbing, Ana. How did you respond to that?"

"I was concentrating on not throwing up," I answered honestly.

"Understandable," he replied.

I scoffed. "Look Flynn, I don't need you here. I don't want you here. All I want is to be at the hospital with Christian." At this he invoked the full on house-arrest. I wasn't allowed out of the house at all. I couldn't visit Christian, I couldn't call the hospital, I couldn't do anything.

"You need to learn to be independent, Ana."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I've been independent my whole life!"

"You've been damaged your whole life. Something about your relationship with Christian has changed you. For the better for the most part, but you are completely dependent upon him. And he upon you. When I'm not here with you, I'm at the hospital with him, Ana. He's pining for you in just the same way."

"Then wouldn't it make sense to give us both what we need? We need each other. He's like air to me, I can't survive without him."

"And that's exactly what I mean, Ana. You two need to learn to be self-sufficient. It's not healthy to be so attached to him."

I tried to get past him, but he anticipated my move and soon had me pinned to the wall behind him. "Flynn, if you don't back away from me right now, I swear to god I will break your neck," I hissed. He backed up slightly and I slid out from the wall. "You have no fucking clue what you're talking about. You have no idea what it's really like to come from where I came from, where Christian came from. To overcome all of that and find love."

"Ana!" I heard Christian's voice on the other side of the door. What was he doing out of the hospital? Flynn tried to stop me again, but I kneed him in the groin, sending him sprawling onto the floor, and ran for the door. I threw the door open and soon he was in my arms. His right arm was in a sling and crushed between us, but we couldn't get close enough to each other. "They were keeping us apart," he whispered once we calmed down. He pressed his forehead to mine. "Why did they do that?"

He stared down at Flynn, who was curled up in the fetal position on the floor, sobbing softly. "What did you do to him?"

"I kneed him in the balls," I said. "Flynn thinks we need to learn to be self-sufficient. Able to be away from each other. I was going crazy without you, baby." Now that he was in my arms, I could see how crazy I truly was getting. For the last few days I hadn't been eating, sleeping or doing much of anything aside from trying to find a way to get out of the house and to the hospital.

"Were you discharged already?" I asked him.

"No," he replied. "I escaped. I imagine they'll be coming after me with strait jackets in a while."

"They'll have to get through me first." I flex my arms under his hands.

"You've lost weight," he admonishes staring at my slightly thinner frame. I shrugged and told him I had no appetite whatsoever. "I couldn't eat without you either," he said. I nodded my agreement. The hospital obviously made him eat some food, as he hadn't lost any noticeable weight. "Shall we eat?" I nodded again and we headed into the kitchen.

"I called Taylor on the way here," he said. "I'm having everything at Escala packed up and brought here. I want to live with you, baby. Is that okay?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes," I said, kissing his dear face in between each word. Perhaps it was too soon. Perhaps it was a bad idea. But I didn't care. I wanted nothing more than to spend every moment of the rest of my life with this man.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

* * *

Christian PoV

How many days had it been? Five? Six? Hadn't she eaten in all that time? Flynn was with her; he should have ensured she was eating. She had to have lost six or seven pounds, and she was already rather slender. I could knee him in the balls all over again for not ensuring she was properly cared for in my absence.

My shoulder hurt like hell, but I didn't care. I couldn't be away from her for another minute. I needed Anastasia like I needed air to breathe. Perhaps even more. Without her, I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, or think. She was my everything, and that scared the ever loving hell out of me.

What would I do if anything ever happened to her? I was faced with that reality when Hyde made his ill-conceived attack on Steele Designs. I died a thousand deaths that day. There's no telling what was going on in my head when I convinced Anita to go back up the stairs with me to the lobby.

 _"_ _This isn't right," Anita said. "I should be helping her, not running away." She released me from her iron grip and I relaxed minutely._

 _"_ _Agreed, Anita," I replied. "So what do we do about it?"_

 _"_ _I have a hand gun in my car," she answered. My eyebrows shot up. "A girl has to protect herself. Ana nearly insisted upon it after I was almost mugged one night leaving the office late."_

 _I followed her to her car where she retrieved the gun from a concealed case in the boot of the car. It was a small Walther p-22, but very effective. She quickly loaded the clip and handed it to me. I was strictly anti-gun, but I'd taken gun-safety classes and learned to shoot. Just in case the situation ever arose. Like today for instance._

 _"_ _Your hair is nearly the same color as Ana's. Hyde will never know the difference. We'll go in; you'll turn around so he can't see your face. That should provide enough of a distraction that Ana can follow through with whatever plan she had in that duffel bag." Anita agreed with my plan and we ascended the stairs back into the lobby as quietly as possible._

 _I called out to Hyde knowing Ana was hiding behind a wall on the other side of the room. Kate and Ethan were standing only a few feet away from Hyde, both strapped with more explosives than I'd ever seen before. When he turned, my whole world shifted. Again. I knew this man needed to die, and he needed to die soon._

 _Staring into the face of Ana's rapist was unsettling to put it mildly. He was too familiar for words, but I couldn't place it. Perhaps because I'd poured over photos of him last two days he just seemed like someone I'd known for a long time. But there was something else there. Something about the shade of his hair and the line of his jaw that struck a nerve within._

 _When the bullet hit me, I was too stunned to even notice the pain. I watched as the arrow went straight through his carotid; Ana was an excellent shot._

"Christian…" Ana's voice called out. "Christian, baby." I opened my eyes, realizing we were standing in her kitchen. She was at the stove stirring a pot of noodles. "Where'd you go?" she asked.

"I think I was having a flashback," I answered. "I'm sorry."

She smiled at me, but it didn't reach her eyes. I wondered when we'd be fully happy again. Now that Hyde was dead, could things go back to normal? What _was_ normal? I'd known this woman exactly two weeks today… We hadn't had a normal day since we met.

As she cooked the pasta, Flynn picked himself up off the foyer and staggered into the room. Ana turned the burner off, drained the pasta, rinsed it and plated it before speaking to the still injured shrink. "Doctor Flynn, I'm sorry I kicked you, but you must understand that Christian and I cannot be separated like that. Not against our will. It's one thing if we voluntarily spend time apart, but not if someone is forcing us to do so. It goes against every instinct I have, and I'm sure Christian agrees." She glanced at me briefly to check; I nodded. "I get that we have a borderline unhealthy dependence on each other, but as you're well aware, we've both just gone through some major trauma and drama. He is the only one that understands what I'm going through. I need him and he needs me."

"I understand that now, Ana. Thank you," Flynn replied sardonically. "I will suggest that the two of you do attempt to spend some time apart here and there. Perhaps my method was a bit extreme, and of course hindsight is twenty-twenty."

"Indeed," Ana replied. "If you're recovered, you can see yourself out." Flynn nodded and hobbled out the door. I wondered if either of us would ever be seeing him again. I know after he brought all her demons into our therapy session that day, and then with the house-arrest and forced separation, I was in no hurry to return to therapy sessions with him, and I very much doubted that Ana would be either.

"Shall we eat?" I asked as I carried one plate to the table. My injured arm was still in a sling and a cast, so I couldn't use it much. She nodded and helped carry the rest of the meal to the table. We sat and ate silently, both of us gorging ourselves on large portions of pasta with the meat sauce.

"What about Mrs. Jones?" she asked. What an odd question.

"What about her?"

"Well, you said you were having all your belongings moved here, which indicates you're moving in with me. I do all the cooking here, and I already have a housekeeper. So I'd hate for her to be out of a job because you fell in love with someone."

"She's in a relationship with Taylor," I answered. "So she doesn't need the job, financially anyway. And I'm not selling the apartment. Taylor and Gail can have it."

"What about the play room?" she asked.

"Most of the items have already been disposed of," I told her. "What I felt like keeping will be put into storage. Taylor and Gail can redecorate the room as a bedroom if they like." I didn't want to make any assumptions that Ana would ever want to do anything involving BDSM. Even though she'd had that dream about it the night before she made the "I LOVE YOU TOO" pancakes. I had no need to punish her, didn't even feel the compulsion, but playing could be fun. When and if she was ready.

We finished our food, cleaned up the kitchen, and retired into her bedroom for a much needed siesta. As much as I wanted to ravish her, christening her bed, I was in no physical condition for sex. It saddened me deeply, but it would be a few more weeks before I could do much of anything.

I hadn't taken the time to really notice her bedroom before. It was magnificent. The walls were all a deep shade of blue, almost black. Normally such a dark shade would make a room seem small, but it was still cavernous. In the middle of the room against the far wall stood a large four-poster canopy bed. She had thick dark blue curtains all around it. Various constellations were embroidered on the fabric, giving it the illusion of being the night sky.

She pulled back the curtain and I noticed the sheets were a sky blue. Night on the outside, day on the inside. "Lovely bedroom," I told her. The last time we were here, it was dark and the lights were off. And in the morning, all hell broke loose. I hadn't the chance to really take in the surroundings.

"Thanks," she replied. "Kate decorated it. I wanted something to do with the night sky, so she went to town. She did the embroidery on the curtains herself."

"She's got a gift. It runs in the family." Ana blushed and shrugged in response. She was never quick to compliment herself, only others.

"There are photos of this room in one of our catalogs," she went on. "At least three of our clients have requested it specifically."

"Who took the photos?" I asked. I wanted to know who was in her bedroom, taking photos. It irked me, thinking about another man in this room besides me.

"Our photographer, José Rodriguez," she answered. "He's been a friend of mine for a long time. Our dads were in the military together." She watched as my expression darkened. "He took the photos right after Kate finished decorating the room. I hadn't even moved into it yet," she continued. "Clearly you're having some kind of fit regarding the photographer. I wonder if I'd said that the photographer's name was Josie instead of José, that you'd be as upset.

"Christian, you can't be jealous. You can't get mad. There's no reason for you to be jealous. I've never given any man the time of day before you. Regardless of how many times I've been asked out by anyone, the first and only time I've ever said yes is when you asked me out."

"Did José ever ask you out?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes at me. Actually rolled her eyes! "Yes, Christian. He has. Several times over the years. But as I said, I've never given any man the time of day. Until you. You are it for me. I don't even notice other men. For the longest time I thought I was completely asexual, as I was never even attracted to anyone. Not a man, not a woman, no one. Until you, Christian Grey.

"José is a brilliant photographer. Even the simple task of taking photos of a room or a building for our design catalog, he manages to make it art. Outside of Steele Designs, he does do artistic photography. Many of the photos in my house are his work. He's a friend of mine Christian. One of the few friends I actually have. And I won't have you getting jealous or making me feel guilty for having a friend."

"I'm sorry, Ana," I replied, sheepishly. "I guess my old ways are coming out a bit. I just can't stand the thought of you with another man. It hurts."

"I'll never be with another man, Christian. I meant it when I said you're it for me. I don't even remember the last time I saw José, actually. He left on a trip to Peru a few weeks back. Part vacation part work. He was commissioned to do some photos of Machu Picchu for a travel catalog and some other things, I think."

I left the subject to rest at that point. There was no need to get me all worked up, well, more worked up than I already was. I'd have to trust Ana. I did trust her implicitly. But I still couldn't shake the idea of another man being in this room. Even if she wasn't here. Even if it was before she even moved in, the idea just bothered me. Especially when I know the man was attracted to her.

* * *

Ana PoV

I was distracting Christian with thoughts of José. I knew he'd be jealous. I knew he'd go overboard with his feelings about it. And while I knew all that, I did it anyway. I'd rather have him distracted with those ideas than with trying to pry information out of me about Hyde. I wasn't ready to tell him yet.

We'd just been reunited after a five day forced separation. I wasn't about to bring the walls down again by telling him that Hyde was his biological father. It was too much information.

Christian pulled me up against him, wrapping his good arm around me. I rested my head against his shoulder and draped my arm around his waist. I stared at the bandage on his other shoulder. I caused that. It was my fault. While I knew Jack Hyde was the one who pulled the trigger, it all boiled down to me.

I should have locked Christian in my office or something. Anything to keep him away from Hyde. But I also had to prepare for the idea that Hyde was successful in blowing up the building. I couldn't have Christian die that way. I just couldn't. So I tried to get him as far away from the building as possible. _Try_ being the operative word.

Then Hyde had to go and drop the proverbial bomb on me. He was Christian's biological father. While I took biology with a grain of salt, I knew Christian would see it differently. There was really no easy way to say it. I'd gone over it in my head a thousand times, and never got it right. But I had to tell Christian soon. Or it would drive a wedge between us, and I couldn't have that.

Our relationship was so new, and so intense. There were so many emotions to work through. My head was still spinning from our first kiss, and then it was sent completely out of orbit with every new thing that happened since we met. I couldn't deny that our connection was related to fate. With everything happening only being testament to the strength of our connection.

Finding out that Elena, Christian's childhood molester, was my biological grandmother didn't make me love him any less. It may have made me hate her even more, but it had no negative affect on my feelings for him. And then learning that Hyde, my childhood molester, is related biologically to Christian, also doesn't make me love him any less. The only negative reaction there is worry about how Christian will feel about it.

As I lay across his chest, I worked through all of these thoughts. He was fast asleep, snoring softly. It was probably the best sleep he had since waking up from surgery. Sleep that wasn't medicine induced, anyway. My mind was reeling much too fast to consider sleeping, despite how exhausted I was.

Absently, I began swirling the bronze curls on his chest. He had just the right amount of hair there. Not enough to be considered a relative of an orangutan, but just enough to run my fingers through. He was the epitome of sexy. Even though I never paid any other man any attention, I knew he was a god among mere mortals.

"Hey," he whispered. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No, I was thinking too much," I admitted.

"Not about the José thing, I hope," he replied.

"Not exactly, no. Well I did at first, but then my thoughts took a different turn." I lifted my head to look into his eyes and gauge his reaction.

"Okay, do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Want to? No. I wish I never had to bring it up, because I wish it wasn't true. But I need to tell you." I could see the panic in his eyes, I needed to get this off my chest though, and deal with the fallout.

"What is it, baby? You know you can tell me anything. Nothing would change how I feel about you."

"I know that. And it isn't your love for me that I'm worried about," I replied. "I don't want you to think that this will change how I feel about you, because it doesn't. Not even a little bit."

"Please just tell me what it is, Ana. Before I jump to all the wrong conclusions," he pleaded.

"I'm very certain that any conclusion you could jump to wouldn't even be close to what it is." His eyes went wide. "The other day, the day I've dubbed Hyde-gate, he said something to me on the phone that caused concern."

"What did he say?"

"Well, he made a reference to bringing his family back together, and that included you. After he died, I asked the Captain if he would run a DNA analysis for me."

"He's not your father, is he?" Christian asked, worried. That would have been a whole lot of other issues if that were true, too. Thankfully, I knew otherwise. He didn't come into my mother's life until after I was born, thank god. Though he could have been Kate or Ethan's father potentially. I doubted it, though.

"No, he's not _my_ father, Christian."

"What do you mean he's not _your_ father? Whose father is he?"

Rather than saying the words out loud, I reached over him and into my night stand. I'd folded up the DNA results and put them there on the night I came back from the hospital. I unfolded the paper slowly and handed it to him, trying to keep my fingers from shaking.

Christian stared at the paper for a few seconds before speaking. "DNA results for Jack Hyde and… Christian Grey." He looked up at me, complete horror in his eyes. "He's my father?"

" _He's_ my father? He's my _father_! He's _my_ father!?" He kept repeating the phrase, emphasizing a different word each time.

"Yes, Christian. I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't know how to tell you. Hyde said you were his son, and I didn't want to believe him. I did the DNA test to be sure, before I told you what he said to me. And of course it confirmed it. But Christian, listen to me. DNA is nothing. All he did was provide you with half of your physical traits. Everything else about you is yours alone."

Christian began breathing faster and faster; he was hyperventilating. I begged him to calm down, tried to pull him in my arms to comfort me, but he pushed me away. "How can you want anything to do with me? I'm that monster's offspring!"

"Christian, I love you! I told you it wouldn't affect how I feel about you."

"How can it not, Ana? I'm the spitting image of him! How can you look at me and not see him?" His breathing came faster and harsher; he started swaying back and forth until he collapsed against the pillows, completely passed out.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

* * *

Ana PoV

I was just about to call 911 when he finally came to. "Ana," he breathed. "You're still here." He looked so relieved, I couldn't help but smile. I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"Of course I'm still here," I replied. "For one thing, I live here. For another, why would I go anywhere?"

"Ana, this has to change… everything. I'm _related_ to that monster." Oh for the love of God.

"Honestly, Christian. Why would it? Did your finding out Elena was my grandmother change how you felt about me?"

"No, of course not," he replied. "I _did_ think it would change how you felt about me, though. I didn't think you'd want to be with someone who'd slept with your grandmother. There are several very wrong things about that." Oh, that explained a thing or two about a thing or two.

"Oh, so you think that little of my feelings for you then. Great, thanks a lot." I began to stand up and walk away but he grabbed my elbow, pulling me back down onto the bed.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"You're sitting here assuring me that these facts haven't changed how you feel about me, but they have. They've instilled doubt in you. You doubt my feelings for you. You doubt how deeply I love you. Elena is my grandmother, and you think that I'll love you less for it. Jack Hyde is your biological father and you think I'll love you less for it. That shows that you think my love for you is so shallow and fleeting that I could simply walk away after learning those pieces of information. You told me that these things don't affect how you love me and I believe you. Why can't you do the same?"

"I…I…" he stuttered.

"Forget it Christian. I'm out. Come find me when you've learned that there's nothing, not one single thing that will ever make me stop loving you. Not even when you're being stupid, stubborn, thick-headed, jealous, over-bearing, controlling or down ride rude. I will love you and only you forever." I wrenched my arm out of his grasp and headed for the door.

In the foyer I grabbed a random pair of shoes, my purse, and my keys. I heard Christian calling for me as I slammed the door behind me. Once in the car I drove to Steele Designs. I hadn't been in the building since Hyde-gate, and from the look of things, neither had anyone else. I had Anita send out an email that everyone could be off for two weeks, paid, without using up any of their time off. I figured people would need some time to cope with what had happened.

When I arrived at my office, Anita was there. Dutifully going through emails and rescheduling meetings for me. "Ana! You're here! Are you okay? How are Kate and Ethan? How's Christian?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Anita, thank you. Kate and Ethan are okay. Christian, well he's getting better. We're hoping for a full recovery in his arm, and it's likely."

"Oh, I'm so glad," she replied.

"How are you? And what are you doing here? I gave everyone two weeks off. You've still got another week, hon."

"I know, but I happened to log into my email from home and saw how much work there was to do, and I had to come in and try to catch up a bit," she replied.

"I don't pay you enough," I told her. "Remind me that I said that when it's time for handing out raises." She laughed and nodded.

"José called a few times. He saw the news about what happened and wanted to make sure you're alright. He said and I quote, 'When were you going to tell me you had a boyfriend? What's the deal with this bomb threat? What in the hell is going on Ana?' He seemed pretty worried."

"Of course he did," I said, rolling my eyes. "I expect Christian will show up before too long. You can let him in this time," I added as I strolled into my office.

But he didn't. I was at the office for upwards of twelve hours, catching up on emails and calling clients who'd left a million voicemails. Luckily, I didn't lose any clients due to what happened. Most of them simply called to find out if everything was okay and if their deadlines would have to be pushed back at all. Christian never showed up, never even called.

I thought he'd come to his senses mere minutes after I walked out the door, but apparently not. Perhaps I imagined him calling out to me. Perhaps his feelings for me really did change.

When I finally got home later that evening, Christian's car was no longer in the driveway. Inside, he was nowhere to be found. Not even a trace of him. He didn't even leave a note in the bedroom. My bed was immaculately made, the sheets having been freshly washed. Did he do this? I thought he was moving in; wouldn't more of his things be in my house by now?

I made a small meal for myself then went to bed, exhausted after the hundreds of emails and phone calls I dealt with all day. In the morning, he still wasn't there. Again, there was no trace of him. He must not have come back. I didn't know what to think about it. Perhaps he thought twice about moving in with me. I was okay with that. As much as I wanted to spend every waking moment in his arms, I knew we both had lives to live, work to do, and other things that would require leaving the bedroom.

Or maybe he thought my leaving yesterday was me _leaving_ him. Oh no. That wasn't good. I quickly showered and got ready, intent to head to the office for a few quick meetings then I would head to Escala. If he wasn't there, I'd go to GEH, and if he wasn't there, I'd go to his parents' house. He had to be somewhere nearby, right? He wouldn't just up and leave Seattle without telling me… would he?

When I arrived at my office, Anita was sitting at her desk, as usual. She looked up at me and pursed her lips, an apologetic look on her face. "José," she mouthed. Oh dear lord. I didn't want to deal with him.

"José!" I greeted as I opened the door to my office. He was seated on my black leather couch, his feet resting on the coffee table, which he knew I hated. Yet, he did it on purpose.

"Ana!" he greeted in return, hopping up from the couch and rushing over to me. He stopped about a foot short of me, leaned in and kissed my cheek. This was his normal greeting. I knew he wanted to hug, me but in the 15 years I'd known him, I never had let it happen. Until now.

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him close. He gasped audibly before enveloping me in his arms and hugging me tightly. "What is this?" he asked.

"Let's just say I've gotten rid of a few demons," I replied as I pulled away from him. He was reluctant to let me go, but a single glare from me and he stepped back immediately. "How was Peru?" I asked.

"Oh it was amazing, Ana. Just the best ever!" He pulled out his tablet and handed to me to let me scroll through the photos. I sat on the sofa and swiped through the files, marveling at each one.

"José, these are really amazing. They're not all for just that travel guide, are they?" I asked.

"No, some are, of course, but I'm displaying my photos at a gallery show in Portland in a couple months."

"Oh, wow! That's great, José. Congratulations!" I set the tablet down and leaned over to hug him again. He misinterpreted my intent and instead angled himself so his lips came in direct contact with mine. Oh shit. He pressed his lips tightly to mine. I kept my mouth closed in an effort to keep his tongue from attempting to explore.

He was kissing me, nibbling my lips in a very un-seductive manner and began groping at my skin. I tried to push him away but he maneuvered me around so that I was laying down, my head against the arm-rest of the couch and him on top of me. He wouldn't let go of my lips no matter what I did. I pushed against him more, but he mistook it for passion and only kissed me harder.

Finally he let me breathe, and I yelled, "José, get off of me! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He pulled back and looked at me as if I'd skinned his cat. "What? I thought you wanted that." I sat up and when I did so, Christian was standing in the doorway.

* * *

Christian PoV

When Ana walked out the door I felt the devastation all over again. I thought she was leaving me. _No she just is upset. You made her upset and you have to fix it_ , I thought. I called out to her, but she ignored me, slamming the door on her way out. I needed to let her cool down for a bit.

I hopped out of her bed and fished my phone out of my pocket. There was only one person I could talk to other than Ana. "Christian? You left the hospital. You weren't discharged yet," my mother scolded me.

"I know mom, I'm sorry. I just couldn't be away from Ana anymore, and she was being kept from me."

"I heard about that," she said. "I don't think you should see that therapist anymore."

"I agree, but mom, there's something else I have to tell you. And I assume you don't know this already, considering my birth certificate was blank."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

"Jack Hyde, the man that raped Anastasia, and orchestrated the attack the other day… is my biological father."

"Where are you?" she asked me.

"I'm at Ana's, still. She just left. Angry. She's angry with me."

"Over this? Is she judging you because of your accidental biological relation to that man?"

"Well, no. She's angry because I assumed that she would judge me on that," I replied.

"I'm coming over. What's the address?" I gave her the address and went downstairs to meet her at the door. A few minutes later, she appeared, her medical bag in tow, to check my wounds. She changed the dressing and adjusted my sling to sit more comfortably.

We then launched into a long discussion over my conversation with Ana that morning. My mother said that Ana loved me deeply and unconditionally. It didn't matter where I came from, what I did in my past, nor who my parents were, she loved me. It took a lot of convincing and even a conversation with Kate and Ethan.

Ethan said he'd kick my ass if I wasn't injured for making his sister upset. Kate gave me a similar threat, only added if I ever hurt Ana again that she'll kill me herself. I then went back to Escala to oversee the packing. It seemed as though everything was going smoothly. In the morning, I decided I would go find Ana. If I knew her, she'd be at her office.

"Is she in?" I asked Anita as I stepped off the elevator in front of Ana's office.

"Yes, Mr. Grey. She has a visitor, but I doubt she'd mind if you went right in." She smiled, seeming relieved that I was there. Perhaps Ana had been worried about me.

When I opened the door, my heart sank to the ground floor. Ana was lying on the couch with a strange man atop her, kissing her passionately. Of course she would move on from me. Now that she was no longer afraid to be touched, she could have her pick of any man she wanted in the world. Why on earth would she want Fifty Shades of Fucked Up Christian Grey?

I was about to turn to leave when I heard her yell. "José, get off of me! What the hell do you think you're doing?" I looked to see him bolt upright and reply, thinking she wanted him to kiss her.

Just as she was about to reply, she looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. "Christian!" she breathed. "Thank god you're here." She stood up and turned toward José. I figured this was the José Rodriguez, the photographer who relentlessly asked her out for years. He turned at looked at me, trying to figure out who I was.

"You!" she yelled at him, causing him to whirl his head around to face her. "In what universe would you ever think I wanted that? I've turned you down at least twenty-seven times in the past fifteen years. What did you think changed? You knew I had a boyfriend, José.

"I'm sorry Ana, but I couldn't help it. First you hug me for the first time ever, and then I thought you… You know how I feel about you. I lo—"

"Get out!" She bellowed, cutting him off. I knew he was about to say he loved her and she didn't want to hear those words from him. She grabbed him by the ear, which made him shoot up on his feet. He towered over her by about eight or nine inches. Easily taller than me. She glared up at him, not bothering to hide her rage and dragged him out of the office by the ear.

"Anita, see that Mr. Rodriguez is paid for his most recent photo spread and then find a new photographer," she said to her assistant before slamming her office door in José's face.

"Ana," I started. She turned to me her eyes brimming with tears. "Oh Ana."

"I thought you'd left me," she cried.

"You thought I left? You're the one who stormed out of the house yesterday," I replied.

"Yes, but I thought you'd come after me. I thought you'd show up at the office minutes after I did. And I was here for hours and hours, and you never came. Never called. And you never came home last night." She clung to me like a barnacle to the side of a ship. I wrapped my arms around her and caressed her back.

"You told me to come find you when I've learned that there's nothing, not one single thing that will ever make you stop loving me," I told her. "It took me a day or so, but I figured it out." I gave her a smile which she scrutinized for a moment before stretching up on her toes and pressing her lips to mine.

"Now do you want to tell my why on earth that man was kissing you?" I asked.

"Oh god," she replied. She was still angry. "That was José, as I'm sure you figured. I think he got the wrong idea because I let him hug me earlier. He'd never been that close, and now that I'm less afraid of contact, I figured I'd give him a hug. Then later I went to hug him again when he said a bunch of his photos were going to be displayed at a gallery show, he took it wrong and kissed me. No matter how much I pushed against him, he kept kissing and got me to lie down like that. Just as you entered, he pulled away to let me breathe and that was when I yelled at him."

"He didn't touch you anywhere, did he?" I asked, or rather, growled.

"No, not anywhere in appropriate anyway. Just my face, arms and waist." She pointed to each spot as she explained.

"I don't want other men kissing you, Anastasia," I gritted.

"Neither do I, Christian," she bit back. "And I didn't _let_ him kiss me. He accosted me and had me at a disadvantage on the couch. I couldn't get enough leverage to shove him off of me."

"Are you going to press charges?" I asked.

"I really should," she replied.

"But you won't."

"I haven't decided."

"My Dom instincts are telling me to punish you, Anastasia," I said in my most authoritative voice.

"What? Why? Because I left yesterday?" she asked, backing away from me slowly.

"No, because you were in another man's arms, with his lips on yours."

"I told you it wasn't consent! I didn't want him to kiss me, he just did. You saw how big he is, I may be strong but gravity was on his side and against mine. I'll admit that I should have judged it better and not gotten so close to him, but the one you should be angry at is José, not me. He already knew I was in a relationship, yet he did that anyway."

"I don't want to punish you, Ana. I never want to, but the instincts are still there. They've been ingrained in me for the better part of a decade now. I won't act on them, my love, but I just felt the need to tell you," I explained. She visibly relaxed. "What I am going to do is undress you slowly and have you ride me on that couch."

I stepped towards her slowly, eying her up and down. She was wearing a simple pair of yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt. Not her normal stylish clothing, I wondered why that was. "Um, you're not supposed to be doing that. Your arm isn't healed," she stammered.

"I'll be fine. I need to bury myself in you, Ana. Please do not deny me."

She paused for a moment before lifting her shirt off of her body and tossing it at me. "Come and get it then," she whispered seductively. I smirked and moved closer to her. My arm was still in a sling, so I could only use the one to undo her bra and pull down her pants. It took longer than normal, but she was helpful and soon I was seated on the couch, my pants and boxers around my ankles, my shirt completely open, and a very aroused Ana bouncing up and down on me. Carefully, albeit. She didn't want to jostle my arm and break my stitches.

With my good arm, I squeezed her hip and guided her up and down my shaft. She grunted and growled along with me, keeping her balance by gripping the back of the couch on either side of my head. "Oh Christian, I'm almost there," she panted. I knew it was true as her body was tightening around mine. I reached around and squeezed her ass as she came, pumping my own release into her.

After an immeasurable moment, she climbed off of me and found her clothing. "Well now we've christened the desk and the couch. What's next?" she asked, jokingly.

"Every available surface in your office, my office, your house, my apartment and every car you and I own," I answered seriously.

"Even the play room?" she asked.

"When and if you're ready. Definitely." I gave her my biggest smile and stood up from the couch. She scurried over and helped pull my pants back up, kissing my treasure trail as she did so. She needed to stop before I got hard all over again.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

* * *

Ana PoV

I was so happy that Christian showed up. We hadn't talked about anything, but perhaps the physical connection in our love making was all we needed. I certainly felt that he loved me, and I hoped he felt it from me too. Also, I was so proud of Christian for not going thermonuclear on José. Perhaps it was because he was still injured or perhaps he felt that I handled it well on my own. One thing was for sure, if José tried anything again, his ball-sack would be introduced to my knees, just like Flynn's.

Once we were cleaned up and dressed again, Christian sat opposite me at my desk. "Are we going to talk?" he asked.

"Yes, by all means. Fire away," I replied. I was still slightly miffed at him; perhaps that was why the sex was so good. I heard make up sex was pretty stellar. Then again, any sex with Christian was out of this world.

"First, I need to apologize to you. I understand now how you felt. You thought that because I assumed Elena and Hyde being related to us would affect your feelings for me, that I thought little of your love. That isn't true. I see how it could be construed that way, but it's more an internal battle than anything," he began.

"Go on," I urged.

"Flynn has said this about me several times, and I know it to be true. I tend to think the worst of myself. I tend to assume that if I do one thing wrong that I'll ruin everything. Also, I have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that anyone could love me. Particularly as much as you do. That's why I have the need to be in control of everything around me. If I control it, then I can't ruin it. Usually, anyway. But when it comes to you, there are no rules; there is no controlling the situation. I'm flying blind every time and it terrifies me."

"So what you're saying is, you don't think very highly of yourself, therefore, how could anyone else?" I stated. He gave me a grim nod. "And you've been working on this with Flynn?" He nodded again. "Will you continue to work on it with him?" He shook his head.

"I don't like Flynn any more. His first strike was laying out all your demons that day in therapy, which caused you to be away from me that night. And then he kept us away from each other for five days. That's two strikes in one. He's on my shit list, Ana," he explained. "And, while I know have no right to tell you what to do, I don't want you seeing him either."

"Well, he's on my shit-list, too," I replied. "After kneeing him in the balls, I don't know that I could look him in the eye again anyway." That earned a chuckle from my man.

"Yes, remind me never to make you upset like that. I like my balls intact, thank you very much."

"Well, their being intact is beneficial for me as well, so you've little to worry about in that regard."

"I love you Anastasia, I'm so sorry if I made you think differently. I shall spend the rest of my days trying to convince you that you're my entire universe. My sun rises and sets on you."

"You should put that in your vows," I said. I clapped my hand over my mouth, surprised at what just came out of it.

"My what?" he asked. "Anastasia, are you saying you want to marry me?" His eyes were so wide I thought they might pop out of his head.

"I umm… well, we sort of already talked about that. But, umm... someday. Yes, yes I would." I recalled our conversations about the matter. We both had mentioned wanting to be together forever, and that neither of us had considered marriage until we met, but we hadn't officially talked about it yet. Hell, we hadn't even known each other a month. "This is one thing I don't want to rush, though, Christian. I want to be with you, as your girlfriend for a while before you attempt to put shiny things on my finger."

"Shiny things?"

"Sparkly ones, too. No shiny and/or sparkly things on my finger for the time being. Understood?"

"Understood," he replied. Then he began chuckling. "Oh Ana, I never knew it was possible to be this happy." I reached across the table and grasped his good hand in mine. "Am I still allowed to move in with you?" he asked.

"Of course, baby," I replied. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Speaking of which, where were you last night?"

"At my parents' house," he answered. "My mother helped give me some perspective, then I spent the rest of my time thinking about you, worrying that I ruined everything, and making sure the movers didn't break anything. They should be en-route to your house as we speak."

"Excellent," she replied. "Where shall we put all your things? It's not like you're furnishing an empty house."

"Well most of what is coming to your place is clothes and a few other necessities. Most of my furniture is staying at Escala, as Taylor and Mrs. Jones will be living there. As far as the artwork, sculptures and other knick knacks, I thought we could go through them together and decide what to keep and what to give away."

"Perfect idea, babe," I said. "Speaking of home, let's go there now. I'm done here for the day." I clicked off of my computer and closed everything up. I told Anita to go home as well and not return until the following Monday. "I don't care if the sky is falling, Anita. Stay home, go out with friends, be with your family." She smiled and nodded at me before packing up her own belongings.

The three of us rode down the elevator together in companionable silence. "Have a lovely rest of your week, Miss Steele," Anita said.

"I think we're beyond the formalities, Anita. Call me Ana," I replied. She beamed at me again. As we stepped out of the elevator, I saw a figure standing in the doorway. The sun was behind the person, so I couldn't tell who it was. Panic set in as my mind went directly to Jack Hyde. I froze in my tracks, my breaths coming out in short pants.

"Ana?" Christian called out. He turned to me and saw the panic in my eyes. "You're okay. It's not Hyde, baby. Though it is José. Would you like me to deal with him?" My mood changed from panic to anger instantaneously. I stepped out of Christian's arms and around him to face José.

"Did you not get the hint, Rodriguez? You've been _fired_ ," I spat. He knew that whenever I used his surname that I was royally pissed.

"Ana, please. Don't do this. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries with you. I misread the situation. Please, I don't want to lose you." I could tell he was being sincere, but he did more than overstep a boundary. Plus, I knew Christian would flip out if I forgave him so quickly.

"That's Miss Steele to you. You knew _exactly_ what you were doing. You knew I was in a relationship, you said so in one of your countless voicemails. I've told you hundreds of times that I don't see you that way. And it had nothing to do with my previous intimacy issues. Also, you did way more than 'overstep a boundary.' You ran past it like an Olympic sprinter."

"Ana," he whined.

"So help me, if you 'Ana' me one more time," I hissed. I clenched my fists at my sides and planted my feet. As he looked at my glare, he realized that I meant business; I wasn't kidding when I fired him, nor when I told him to get out. I was done playing his games, and he needed to move on. If that meant I had to pull out the bitch-Domme CEO persona, then so be it.

"I'm sorry Ana," he whispered. Hanging his head, he turned and headed out the door. I waited while he hailed a cab, got in and drove away before I stepped out of the building.

"I'm very tempted to have you on the lobby floor," Christian panted. "That was without a doubt the sexiest thing I have ever seen."

"Perhaps another day, cowboy," I purred. "When you're not hindered by your injury, you can have me six ways to Tuesday all over this lobby. How does that sound?"

"It's good to date the CEO," he agreed.

We headed back to my house where most of his things had been moved in. Mrs. Jones even accompanied the movers and helped organize the closet in my room, adding his clothing to it. Luckily, I had a gigantic closet that wasn't even half full, so it more than accommodated his wardrobe.

"The movers are asking where your library is," he said. "I told them I had no clue and to ask you."

I chuckled. "Follow me." I led him down the corridor which appeared to end at a wall of books. "This is it? Um, all the shelves are full."

"Silly Christian, don't you know me at all?" I asked. I pulled on one of the books on the middle shelf that was actually a door latch disguised as a book. The two sides of the bookshelves opened inwards towards a cavernous room that was lined with bookshelves on each wall. "We'll have to install some more shelves, but for now, your boxes of books can be put here."

"You have a hidden library?!" Christian exclaimed.

"Of sorts," I replied. "I actually got the idea on Pinterest, believe it or not. Then Ethan made it happen."

The movers came in behind us and set the boxes neatly in the corner, thanking me for leading them to the room. "Shall we eat?" Christian suggested. I nodded and headed out of the library and down to the kitchen.

I cooked a simple meal of homemade chicken pot pie. Rather than baking it in a pie crust, I poured the mixture into individual ramekins and topped it with homemade biscuit batter. Kate and Ethan arrived just in time for dinner and the four of us dined together.

"How's the arm?" Ethan asked.

"Well, I haven't been able to move it much," Christian admitted. "But I'm hoping for a full recovery."

"Do you have a physical therapist?" Ethan followed up. "When I broke my arm a few years back, I had a great therapist, had me with full movement within weeks. Granted I know a gunshot wound is different, but perhaps she'd be willing to help you out."

 _She?!_ I thought. No way in hell would I let some other woman manhandle my man. Nope. Not a chance. Christian seemed to note my reaction and politely declined.

"My personal trainer, Claude, has volunteered to help with that. He's also got a degree in physical therapy." This was news. And good news at that. "In fact, he's due here in the morning, at five am, so I should probably be going to bed soon."

"Good idea," I chimed in, standing up from the table. "Kate, Ethan, you can clean up," I said. Christian and I went up to my bedroom and got lost in each other once or twice before falling asleep.

* * *

Christian PoV

My shoulder hurt a hell of a lot more than I was letting on. I didn't want to appear weak in front of Ana, but I knew I'd have to let her know how much I was hurting. She was fast asleep, nestled into my side. I was in bad need of a morphine shot, which I also hated to admit. The last thing I wanted was to become dependent on the stuff, but it truly was the only pain medication that worked with this blasted injury.

"Ana baby," I purred, shaking her gently to wake her. She groaned and stretched a bit before opening her eyes to me.

"Hi," she said groggily. "What time is it?"

"Just after midnight. I need your help," I told her.

"What's wrong?" Suddenly she was wide awake and alert.

"I'm in some pretty intense pain and I need another shot of morphine. They're in my bag on the dresser," I told her. "Can you help me with that?"

"Of course," she replied. She hopped off the bed, careful not to jostle me and went to rifle through my duffel bag. She procured the bottle and a syringe. "How much?" she asked.

"Thirty CCs," I answered. Like a pro, she stuck the syringe through the rubber top, tipped it upside down and pulled the proper dosage into the syringe. Then she tapped the side to ensure no air bubbles were in the syringe or the needle.

"Where do I stick you?" she asked. I pointed to a spot on my shoulder. She swabbed the area with an alcohol wipe, took a deep breath and stabbed me with the needle.

"You've done this before," I commented. She merely nodded her reply. I watched as she pressed the plunger and then felt the sweet oblivion of the medicine working its way through my shoulder, targeting my pain head on.

"When are you allowed to have another dose?" she asked.

"Not for another six hours, but I'll probably wait twelve or so," I answered. She furrowed her brow. "Ana, the last thing I want is to become dependent on this stuff. You know how I feel about drug addiction. So I'll take as little as possible as rarely as possible. I have a high pain tolerance, so don't worry about me."

She snorts. "Please tell me you see the irony of that statement."

"Which statement?" I asked, befuddled.

"'I have a high pain tolerance,' says the sadist," she answered, giggling.

"I see your point," I replied. "So, answer this… when did you learn to give a shot?"

"I can't say I ever really _learned_ , per se. My mother shot up heroin multiple times a day. Sometimes she was so blitzed she'd have me do it. I watched and figured it out. And with my eidetic memory, I haven't forgotten how to do it." That wasn't the answer I expected. "Also, my Mammaw was diabetic, so I gave her shots sometimes as well," she added.

"Oh," I said quietly. "I can't say I expected that first part to be your answer." She shrugged again.

"Would you like a midnight snack?" she asked. "I've got a hankering for a warm chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk."

"Sounds great, but won't that take a while?"

"Have a little faith in me," she said, winking. With her help, I got off the bed and followed her down to the kitchen. She sat me at one of the bar stools and instructed me to stay put.

I watched as she melted a pad of butter in two ramekins, added white sugar, brown sugar and an egg yolk to each, and then stirred them up. Then she added a bit of flour, a sprinkle of salt and a splash of vanilla extract. Next, she threw in a few chocolate chips in each and stirred the mixture, spreading it out across the bottom of the ramekins. She put the ramekins in the microwave and set the timer for two minutes.

While they cooked, she poured two tall glasses of organic whole milk, grabbed a couple forks and set the bar. About twenty seconds before the timer was done, she pulled the ramekins from the microwave and set them on the bar. "There, a chocolate chip cookie in a cup," she called it. I leaned down and took a whiff of it… it looked like a cookie, it smelled like a cookie, and if her track record with making flavors explode in my mouth was any indication, it was about to be the best cookie I ever had.

I took a bite and moaned in delight. "Fantastic," I said. Chasing it with a sip of the ice cold milk, I was in heaven. "Perfectly moist, just enough sweetness in the chocolate, and a great flavor. Yet another thing to add to the menu of your restaurant."

"Again with the restaurant," she said. "Do you really think I should open one?"

"Absolutely!" I replied. "Every meal of yours that I've tried has been simply phenomenal. You're creative with your recipes, you love to cook, why not do it for a living?"

"I'd only want something small though, not a huge restaurant, but more like a cozy diner. We could call it Mammaw's. A lot of my recipes are from her collection, anyway. I tweak them a bit here and there, but she was the original culinary genius."

"Fantastic idea, baby. You just let me know when and how I can help, me and all my resources are at your disposal." We finished our midnight snack and headed back up to bed. In just a few short hours, Bastille would be knocking down the door to start my physical therapy sessions.

The Morphine had fully set in and I was dog-tired. I fell asleep within seconds, Ana securely wrapped around me. I couldn't wait to wake up with her every day of the rest of our lives.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

* * *

Ana PoV

I woke up after having a dream of my restaurant. It was perfect. The menu was gorgeous, the building itself couldn't have been designed better, and the clientele were exactly who I had in mind. I knew exactly what I had to do, and that was call Mia, suggest a partnership and get planning. Christian was fast asleep, wrapped around me like a burrito. Clyde had come and gone, so he was back in bed sleeping soundly again after his one hour session of physical therapy. I stretched my free arm out and found my cell phone which was teetering precariously on the edge of the night stand. I clearly saved it from certain death. Squinting at the bright light of the screen, I scrolled through the contacts until I came upon Mia. I pressed her name and waited for her to answer.

One ring, two rings, three rings… I tapped my fingers against Christian's forearm impatiently. "Mia!" I greeted when she finally answered the phone. "I have an idea… rather Christian had an idea, I think it's fantastic, and I'd like your input slash help."

"Okay, and good morning by the way," she replied, sleepily. I looked over at the clock and saw that it was seven am. Apparently a bit too early for her.

"Oh sorry, yes, good morning. I was so excited; I couldn't wait to call you."

"What's up, Ana?" she asked.

"I want to open a restaurant," I told her. "I think your culinary skills and mine, paired with my business skills, and my siblings' design skills, we could create something really, really awesome."

"Are you saying you want us to open a restaurant?" she asked. "Like, seriously?"

"Yes! Of course I'm serious. I know we don't know each other very well, but I'm not much of a jokester."

"Yeah, you seem a lot like my ginger brother in that way." She giggled. "Okay, let's do it!"

"Really? You'll partner up with me?" I asked. I didn't think she'd be so quick to agree.

"Hell yes I will. I just finished my culinary school; I've always wanted to open a restaurant, and now I have a friend that wants to do it with me. It's kind of a major 'DUH' moment, Ana."

"Well alright then. Christian is still dead to the world, so do you want to come here and we can go over some recipes and some ideas that I'm sure we both have many of?"

"Sure! Let me just get dressed and have breakfast and I'll be on my way over."

"Or you could have breakfast here. I make a mean frittata Florentine," I suggested.

"You had me at 'I make a mean…' I'm on my way." I gave her the address and then hopped in the shower. When I got out and got dressed, Christian was beginning to stir.

"Ana?" he called out, his uninjured arm searching the empty space on the bed. There was a slightly panicky edge to his voice.

"I'm right here, baby," I said as I approached him. "Your sister is on her way. We're going to discuss the restaurant business. I'm going to go make some breakfast. Come on down whenever you like." I leaned down and kissed him full on the lips, pushing as much passion and love as I could into it. "I love you," I whispered.

As I was descending the stairs, I could hear him scrambling out of the bed, to get ready too. I giggled quietly. Of course he didn't want to stay away from me for long. It was codependence to the max, but I didn't even care.

In the kitchen, I started beating up the eggs while I sautéed the potatoes, bacon, onions, mushrooms, spinach and garlic. Christian arrived moments later, his hair wet and glossy from the shower, sticking out in every direction like he'd just run a towel through it. I wanted to run my fingers through it. Yum.

He stepped to me, kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheek and finally, my lips. "Good morning baby, I love you, too." I giggled like a school girl as he swatted my behind playfully before grabbing plates and glasses to set the table. "I take it Mia is joining us for breakfast?"

"Yes, I figured why not start out our negotiations with food we might use on the menu?" I answered as I poured the egg and cheese mixture into the pan.

"That bacon smells amazing. Where's it from?" He leaned over me and inhaled deeply, moaning as he took in the aromas wafting up from the pan.

"It's from this amazing farm in Cambridge, Wisconsin," I answered. "The couple that runs it are the cutest couple you'd ever seen, and they only feed their pigs organic foods, treat them like family, and as a result the meat is amazing. When you treat an animal like shit, the meat tastes like shit. When you treat it like a king, the meat is amazing."

"You should write that down somewhere," he joked.

The doorbell rang, signaling Mia's arrival. Christian darted off to answer it as I was in the middle of making the frittatas. Stepping away even for a few seconds could be the difference between perfectly cooked and burnt to hell. I heard Mia and her brother exchange pleasantries before they both came into the kitchen. "Wow, Ana! This kitchen is amazing!" she exclaimed.

She reached me and pecked my cheek before squeezing my free hand. "Good morning! That smells amazing, and I am SO excited about this restaurant! What should we call it? Ana Mia's? Miana's? Steely Grey's?"

"Well, we'll have to discuss it of course, but I was thinking of calling it Mammaw's Diner, after my grandmother," I replied. "I don't want a high priced place, but a homey, cozy place that people can feel super comfortable in. They don't have to dress to the nines or plan to eat ahead of time because the $150 plate only has three bites of food on it."

"Oh, I like this idea. And perhaps once Mammaw's takes off, we can create another restaurant, more of a fine dining affair?" she asked.

"Sure thing, Mia. But either way, I want the prices to be affordable. I can't stand the places that only the most elite can get into. Everyone should be able to afford a nice meal."

The frittatas were done and I placed them on each plate as we sat down. Christian poured juice and offered each of us coffee or tea. I declined, saying the juice was fine, but Mia desperately wanted coffee. Christian set about making a pot while Mia and I dug into our food. We had a lot to discuss and needed to get started with it.

"Okay, so if we're opening a diner, we want comfort food, right?" Mia stated as she fished a notebook and pen out of her massive purse. "Mashed potatoes, meatloaf, mac n' cheese, stuff like that. Do we want to have a breakfast service? Should we make the breakfast items available all day?"

"Yes to all of the above," I replied. "I was thinking of the kid's menu this morning, before I called you. We could have alphabet pancakes on there, 'alpha-cakes.' Something like, 'get your name in your pancakes.' You simply put the batter in a baggie with a wide mouth icing tip and squeeze it out on the griddle in the shape of whatever letter. One might even be able to do a whole name in one cake if you use cursive. That way any little Polly, Jimmy, Joey or Maria can have his or her name for breakfast."

"I LOVE that idea, Ana! You're a genius!" I glanced over at Christian who had returned with the French press and a mug for Mia and was digging into his food. He eyed me with all the love and affection he felt. He remembered the pancakes I made for him. The inspiration for the alpha-cakes idea. "What about other kid's meals?" Mia was writing furiously in her notebook, sure to write down all my ideas.

"Another idea I had, was kind of like macaroni and cheese, which you mentioned as a comfort food, anyway, so we're on the same train of thought, and that's very good. You cut a hot dog or two into chunks, then take uncooked spaghetti noodles and stab them through the hot dogs. You can put six or seven noodles into each chunk, sliding them through so the hot dog is through the middle of the noodles. Then you cook them and mix them with the cheese sauce as normal. When it's done, they look like octopi or something… I was thinking of calling it 'sketti n' cheese' since little kids say 'sketti' sometimes, right? And we could also have turkey or veggie dogs as a substitute for parents whose kids don't eat beef." There were a lot of those vegan and vegetarian people in Seattle. We needed to appease some of them.

"Oh Ana, you're going to make a great mom some day!" Mia exclaimed. "These ideas are amazing. Any kid would be happy to eat their entire meal when it's fun like that." My throat constricted slightly at her words. She had no idea that kids weren't in my future, so I couldn't fault her for the comment. But it caught me off guard nonetheless.

"No, I just have a good idea of what kids like," I replied. "Like dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets or icing a piece of cake with their favorite cartoon character. Kids like fun things all around and that includes food."

"You're right about that," Mia agreed. "Okay, so we've got a couple kids meals down, what about adult meals? This frittata Florentine had better be on the menu, lady. It's amazing."

"Sure thing, it can be, and I'm sure my meat supplier would be happy to send me lots more for a restaurant. She'd love to expand. Perhaps I can convince her to relocate her farm to the Pacific Northwest," I joked.

"That's actually not a bad idea. People love going to restaurants that boast locally grown and produced foods."

"Give her a hell of an offer," Christian adds. "I've got some land set aside for a house that now I won't have to build. It'd be great farm land, and she'd have a beautiful house and a view of the ocean every day."

"You have land for a house?!" Mia and I chorused together.

"Well yes, I hadn't planned on living in Escala for the rest of my life. I bought a piece to retire on," he answered. "There's a house sitting on it now, but it needs a lot of work. If you can convince your farmer friends to move out here, then they can have the house and the land free of cost." As he made his offer, the wheels were turning in my head. We were really going to do this. Mia and I were really going to open a restaurant. Christian was giving his full support both by being here during the discussions and by offering up his own possessions to help the cause.

"I guess I'll get Red on the phone, then," I said, making a mental note to call her. "Let's talk a bit more about the menu first." Mia and I went back and forth about what to include in the menu. We both wanted to keep it simple so that we didn't have to have the kitchen constantly stocked with ingredients for a million menu items. We both had been to the cheesecake factory and the idea of a menu with page numbers was far too intimidating. I wanted to use as many of my Mammaw's recipes as we could, since she was the namesake. Pulling out her recipe box, Mia and I went through it card by card.

Eventually we decided on having a build your own omelet section with various ingredients, pancakes, Hawaiian French toast, chicken and waffles, a few steaks, burgers, chicken sandwiches, a couple pasta dishes, and then went on to discuss opening more restaurants that could have certain themes. A Casablanca themed one, or a Venetian one with Italian cuisine, including a build your own personal pan pizza bar.

Christian got us back on track with Mammaw's as it was the first restaurant we'd open. We had the rest of our lives to open up other concepts. He assured us that once word of mouth got out about how amazing Mammaw's was that people would flock to our other restaurants as soon as they heard we were the masterminds behind them.

* * *

Christian PoV

Mia and Ana were a natural partnership. They each brought out the best in one another, called each other out on bad ideas, and worked together perfectly. It was a joy to see. I thought Ana might have a minor break down when Mia mentioned her being a wonderful mother someday, but she cleared her face quickly and got back to the task at hand. She was nothing if not professional and very good at compartmentalizing.

While they were working, the doorbell rang again and my parents along with Ana's parents, Elliot, Kate and Ethan were standing there. "Why would you ring the doorbell of your own house?" Elliot asked Ethan, whose finger was extended, giving away the fact that he'd been the one to ring.

"Well, Christian lives here now, too, and I didn't want to walk in on him and Ana in a compromising position in the living room or something," Ethan said. I smirked, knowing that Ana would be blushing furiously if she heard him.

"On the contrary, Mia is here. She and Ana are discussing plans for a restaurant they're planning to open together."

"You and Ana moved in together?" Ana's mother asked.

"Er, yes. We did," I told her.

"That seems awfully soon, Christian," she admonished. I panicked. I had no idea what to say to that. We hadn't even discussed with Ethan and Kate. I just moved in with little regard for what their opinion was. Ethan didn't seem upset about it. Kate didn't either.

"Under any other circumstances, I'd agree with you, Miranda," my mother said, coming to my rescue. "But anyone can see how much these two love each other. I've never seen anything like it. It's like they're two halves of one being. Tell me, Miranda, Ray, have you ever seen your daughter happier than she's been since meeting my son?" They both shook their heads. "Right, and my son is a completely different man now. He smiles all the time, he's glowing with happiness and love. And I for one, wouldn't change that for the world."

I pulled my mom in for a hug, wishing I could wrap both my arms around her. She was amazing. Ray shook my hand, congratulated me on winning over his daughter and said if I ever hurt her he'd take out my other shoulder with a shotgun. I recall a similar threat during the family picnic where all hell broke loose, but appreciated it anyway. It proved to me that Ray loved his daughter fiercely and was protective of her. I admired that about him. It's the way any father should be.

We all moved into the kitchen where Ana and Mia were still talking restaurant plans, completely oblivious to the rest of us. "Should we have fun 50s style dresses for the waitresses to wear? We could have someone from Elena's salons do their hair every day, maybe," Mia suggested.

"I don't want that scorpion woman involved," Ana hissed.

"What?! What's wrong with Elena?" Mia asked, affronted.

"Several things," Ana replied. "I love your idea, Mia, but we'll have to use a different salon." Ana quickly diffused the situation without giving much away. Apparently my parents hadn't told Mia what they recently learned about Elena.

"Um, okay," Mia replied. As she went to write down some more notes, her pen slipped out of her hand, when she turned to grab it, she caught sight of us and literally jumped in her seat. "When did you all get here?" she asked, completely surprised.

"Jeez, babe, we've been standing here a while. I rang the doorbell and everything. You didn't even hear?" Ethan asked.

"No, I guess Ana and I were really into our plans. Did Christian tell you? We're opening a restaurant! She thrust a sketch at him that Ana had drawn up of what the signage might look like.

"This is awesome," Elliot said, glancing at the paper. "Who's gonna build it? Grey or Steele?"

"Steele Designs, of course," Ana replied, winking at Elliot. "Actually I was thinking of a joint thing. It could be really great press for both companies if they see that the people who run said companies are good friends and practically family."

"I agree," I said. "It can only be good for all parties involved. Especially if the restaurant does as well as we hope."

"Let's see what you've got for a menu," Miranda stated as she joins the table.

Soon everyone was throwing out ideas and suggestions for the design, the menu, the prices, and everything. I could see Ana getting stressed out and overwhelmed by all the attention.

"Everyone!" I shouted. "There are far too many cooks in this kitchen. Let's leave the planning to Ana's and Mia's more than capable hands, okay? When they need the expertise of one or more of us, they'll ask for it." They all hung their heads in shame and retreated into the living room to chat while Mia and Ana continued to work.

They broke for lunch and put together a sandwich bar for all of us. "This would be another great idea! Build your own sandwich bar!" Elliot exclaimed. "It could be like a luncheonette. I'm saying, between the two of you and the designers, architects, lawyers, and business people in our families, we could take Seattle's restaurant district by storm!" The man had a point, a very valid one.

He strode over to the table and looked over the sketches that Ana and Mia had made up of the restaurant's layout. "This is all totally doable, too, and it wouldn't cost a lot, even if you went completely green. People out here like things that are green."

"Yes, Elliot, we know," Mia said. "That's our plan. Build the restaurant as sustainably as possible, use only locally grown produce, meat and other products, give our wait-staff more than minimum wage, and keep the meals affordable. It'll be a big investment, but once the restaurant takes off, even with the low prices, the business will take off, and we'll make back our investment quickly. Don't you agree, Daddy?" she asked, turning to our father, the business lawyer.

He stepped over and glanced at the business plan that even included prices for a lot of the things they needed. "You're right, Mia. It'll be a hell of an investment, but if you can make it work, it'll be a goldmine. And it'll open the door for many other food related endeavors."

"I think as part of our advertising campaign, we could deliver meals to the homeless shelters or have a free meal night once a month or something," Ana suggested. "People always respond well to companies that give back. And it would feel good to be doing so as well."

"That's a great idea, Ana," my mother said. "There are a great many things you could do to give back to the community, and bring lots of patrons into dine at the restaurant. I'll be happy to put word around at the hospital, especially the free clinic that homeless people can go there for a free meal on every third Thursday, or whatever you decide."

Now that everyone was offering up constructive ideas and waiting their turn to speak, the discussion was going a lot smoother. By the end of the day, we had a solid plan in place; all that was left was to make it happen.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

* * *

(Time Jump)

* * *

Ana PoV

I was freaking out. Seriously having a fit. Mammaw's Diner was set to open in less than 12 hours. Mia and I had worked painstakingly for weeks hammering out every detail. The building was designed and built, favors were called in, contracts made, vendors paid, suppliers hired, wait-staff interviewed and thoroughly background checked (Christian's doing of course), and finally the day was here.

Grey Construction and Steele Designs advertised a joint project in building the restaurant and between the two companies and financial backing also coming from Grey Enterprise Holdings, the paparazzi in the area were going crazy. They all wanted to know how we were connected. Since Jack Hyde took those photos of Christian and I that day, and Christian thoroughly screwed over that little gossip mag, the attention has been negligible. His and my lawyers made sure that the incident at Steele Designs, and his shooting were also not publicized anywhere.

The last thing he and I wanted was to have our already fragile relationship further affected by incessant shutterbugs. But it was hard to keep the press from finding out about a joint construction project from the two most popular construction companies in Seattle, and with that came the news that Grey Enterprise Holdings had a part in it, too. Paparazzi were constantly following us around, asking us questions, some far more personal than we wanted to answer.

"Mr. Grey, can you tell us why you're wearing a sling?" or "Did the little old lady hurt you, Sir?" or my personal favorite, "Ms. Steele, what can you say to us about domestic abuse? We're told you beat Christian Grey, yet he stays with you."

We were specifically told not to engage any of them, act as if they weren't even there. Even if we gave them an answer, they had a way of twisting words around to make us out to be monsters. It took every ounce of control I possessed to keep from decking the one that asked that last question. I paused minutely, fighting making eye contact with the snake. Christian noted my pause, ripped his sling off, throwing it towards the bushes where the shutterbugs were "hiding," grabbed me roughly, dipped me down low and planted a hell of a kiss on me. He held me there for a while, allowing the cameras to go off crazily for some time.

His lips took possession of mine, he growled lightly as he nipped and licked my mouth. His tongue fought mine for dominance, one hand was fisted in my hair, pulling on it roughly while the other was gripping my hip almost painfully. But it was amazing. He hadn't been able to hold me like this yet. The last few weeks our love making had been wonderful, but very simple. Me on top or any position in which he didn't have to do much of the work. He hated that; hated not being in control, not being able to take me the way he needed to.

"That should give them enough fuel for now," he said into my ear as he lifted me back up. "And now I'm going to fuck you into next week," he added. I panted heavily as he half-dragged me into the house. I knew he was taking his frustrations with all the attention out on my body, but it was in such a delicious way, I could hardly complain. He wasn't going to punish me, but it would be angry sex. I was angry with the paparazzi for insinuating that I was beating him, and he was angry for the same reason, but more at the one who suggested he was weak and naïve for staying in an abusive relationship.

We both had to let go of a lot of that anger and it was going to be so much fun doing it. "Strip," he commanded. I complied immediately, excited to see Christian the Dom come out to play. We hadn't had much experience with him yet, and I was interested to see what he would do. He was always so afraid that he'd push me too far or that I wouldn't like it too rough, but I assured him that because of him, I was getting over my fears and wanting to try new things in bed. And apparently, _that_ day, mere hours before the Grand Opening of Mammaw's Diner, was the day he would start.

Once I was naked, he instructed me to kneel next to the bed with my hands on my thighs. "Keep your eyes on me, though, baby," he told me when I'd dropped my gaze to the floor. "You're not my sub; I'm not going to treat you like one. You're free to keep your eyes on me, touch me, talk to me, and especially scream my name." Just his words had wetness dripping out of me and down my thighs. He was using his authoritative Dom voice that had never been directed at me before, and it was so fucking sexy.

"God I can smell you from here," he said, an intoxicated expression on his face. "You smell so fucking delicious, Anastasia."

He instructed me to stand on my feet and undress him. I did so carefully and quickly, as I could tell he wasn't interested in slow and sensual. "On your knees," he commanded once I got him completely naked. I knew what that meant. But he hadn't told me to do anything other than get on my knees, so I sat there eye level with his impressive manhood and licked my lips.

His hands came up on either side of my head and held it steady. "I'm going to fuck your mouth, Anastasia," he told me. "If it gets to be too much, reach up and remove my hands from your head and I will stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Christian," I replied. He positioned himself right in front of my mouth and rubbed the velvet tip across my lips for a few seconds before pushing his way in. I opened my mouth as wide as it would go and took him in as far as I could. I relaxed my throat and took him deeper, my lips touching the base of his shaft.

"Jesus Christ, Ana!" he cried. "You can take _all_ of me?!" I wanted to smile, but my mouth was otherwise occupied. He pulled himself out of my mouth slowly and then thrust back in, not going as far. He held my head tightly in place while his hips did all the work. I tried to suck hard as he pulled out and lick the tip before he thrust back in. The grunts and groans he was making told me I was doing a good job.

He gripped my hair tightly, pulling it slightly, but it didn't bother me. I liked it. I liked that he was taking possession of me like this; taking what he needed from me. "Oh Ana, I'm going to come. Unless you want it in your mouth, you need to move," he grunted. I shook my head as much as I could as he continued to thrust relentlessly into my mouth.

"Aaagghhh!" he yelled, releasing his seed into me. I took it all in to my mouth and down my throat. "Ana, baby," he cooed as he pulled himself from my mouth. I swallowed down every delicious drop of him. It was the hottest thing ever. "You are the most spectacular and amazing woman on the planet." He picked me up off the floor and tossed me unceremoniously onto the bed.

"I see you've got your strength back," I said.

"Oh, I've got a lot more than that back." He climbed up the bed and nestled in between my thighs. "I've been craving this for weeks." Diving in, he devoured my core, licking up every last drop of my arousal as he drove me insane with pleasure. I could feel the familiar tightening deep in my belly, telling me I was about to come and come hard. "Ah, ah, ah, Ana. Don't come yet. I'm not done with my meal."

"Oh please Christian," I begged. I was writhing beneath him, lifting my hips to press myself into his face.

"You're greedy today, baby," he teased.

"God, baby, I just want you so bad," I replied. He chuckled against me, his laughter reverberating against my core.

"We've made love almost every day, Ana. You're insatiable."

"Yes, we've made love. Gently, carefully, and oh so lovingly, and it's been amazing," I panted. "But we haven't fucked." He paused. His head rose from between my legs and eyed me curiously.

"You want that?" he asked. I smiled shyly at him, bit my lip, and nodded. He climbed up my body and pressed his lips to mine, claiming them. "You want me to fuck you, baby?"

"God yes," I replied, squirming. He was teasing my entrance with the head of his brand-new erection. "As hard as you possibly can."

* * *

Christian PoV

I could hardly believe my ears. We'd been rough with each other before, but this was something new. Carnal, animalistic desire rolled off of my love in waves. "I'm all too pleased to do so," I replied as I plunged into her. She yelled out in pleasure as I pulled out and rammed back into her.

"More!" she begged. "Harder, Christian!" She grasped my hips and pulled me towards her, harder and faster. Her legs were spread wide, allowing me deeper access into her sex. "God, yes!" she screamed. I could feel her fingers digging into my skin; there would surely be bruising, but I didn't have it in me to care. In fact, I wanted her to mark me.

I slammed into her with as much force and speed as I could. I wasn't going to last much longer, but I could feel her muscles contracting around me, she wasn't far off either. Her hands roamed up my back and dug into my shoulder blades. She growled and screamed and moaned with each and every thrust of my hips. Deciding I wanted to truly show her how fast and hard it could be, I pulled out abruptly, flipped her over and pulled her up on her knees.

I drove into her again, gripping her hips. Her face was smashed into a pillow and she screamed into it with abandon. Her tight little pussy was milking me for all I had, but she hadn't quite come yet, and I wasn't about to before she did. "Yes, Ana! God, so good, baby!" I grunted.

"Christian, I'm going to come," she cried, turning her head out of the pillow enough for me to hear her.

"I know, baby, I can feel you. Give it to me," I told her. I slammed into her harder and faster, feeling her climax tighten around me, squeezing my own from me. "Annnaaaa!" I yelled as my climax took over. Thrusting erratically into her, I spilled my seed inside her in several long spurts. Slowing down, I let us both climb down slowly from the peak and I collapsed on her back, us both falling onto the mattress.

"That was in-fucking-credible," she breathed.

"Agreed," I replied. "I think we both needed that."

"Very much, so, Mr. Grey." I rolled off of her and pulled her into my arms. We fell asleep within a few moments, and woke to the sound of both of our cell phones going off. Ana wrenched herself into a sitting position. "Shit! We're late!" she exclaimed. She called Mia back, apologizing profusely, stating we were hiding from paparazzi, which wasn't an outright lie.

She hopped off the bed and ran into the bathroom. I watched her for a moment as she showered faster than the speed of light and even had time to yell at me to "get my ass out of bed and in the shower." I did just that and within twenty minutes, we were on the road to the restaurant. She was curling her hair in the car, having brought a plugin-car charger adapter with. Before long, her hair fell in wide curls down her left shoulder. She pinned it behind her ear with a large flower pin that looked like a rose with both red and black petals. Each petal was rimmed with glitter and feathers adorned the background.

Ana was wearing a crimson dress made of luxurious shakira satin. It featured a faux wrap front and tulips skirt, attached wrap belt, and gorgeous plunging neckline. I read the description on the dress when she ordered it from online. She looked simply stunning. After applying a thicker line of black eyeliner than normal, mascara and red lipstick that matched her dress, she looked like the picture of a 1950s socialite.

As we pulled into the lot, we could already see cameramen, news crews and customers lining up outside, ready to get their first taste of this well-advertised diner. "Are you ready, baby?" I asked. She shook her head, but got out of the car. We went in through the back door so as to avoid the shutterbugs as much as possible, and met up with our families inside.

"Ana, you look lovely!" My mother greeted, pulling Ana in for a hug, and pulling me in with her. "I'm so excited for this! The first official merger of our families. Many more to come, I think." Ana agreed wholeheartedly and then went to greet everyone.

"Okay!" Mia exclaimed. "It's time. Ready Ana?" She grasped Ana's hand and together they went to unlock the doors and invite everyone in. I realized then that Mia was wearing the exact same dress as Ana only in a dark plum color, and her hair was styled the same. I wondered if they planned that or if they just had similar taste.

"Welcome to Mammaw's Diner," Ana greeted the first family that arrived. "How many?"

"Just the four of us," the woman in the family answered. "We were so excited to read about this place." Ana grabbed four menus, two of which were kids' menus with a handful of crayons and led them to the first table to be filled for the evening.

"I'm so glad!" Ana replied. "Mia and I worked hard for a long time to put this place together, so I certainly hope you approve. Becky here will be your server. Enjoy!" She patted Becky on the back before returning to the entrance to escort more parties to their tables. The rest of us watched from behind the kitchen as Ana, Mia, and the hired hosts greeted everyone and took them all to their tables. A few people asked for autographs and photos, which Ana was happy to provide. I think there was even a shot of her kissing a baby. She could go into politics with that kind of rapport.

Within the next few minutes, everything was in full-swing. The chefs were busy creating the meals the customers ordered, exactly following the recipes as provided by Ana and Mia. I even made a few rounds at tables, greeting people and taking pictures. Only if Ana posed in them with me, of course.

Throughout the dinner, Elliot and Kate were feverishly checking on Facebook and Twitter to see how the diners were reacting to the meals. So far, nothing but good reviews and press. "Mammaw's Diner is fantastic!" one person tweeted. "Best meal I've had at a restaurant in a long time," another said. Many people were checking in on Facebook, tagging their friends to tell them to come and check it out.

The place was packed to capacity with more people outside waiting for a chance to come in. Ana had a stroke of genius and had one of the cooks plate a platter of meatloaf and mac n' cheese samples in mini paper ramekins that she would give out to those waiting in line. She went out with the tray, greeting the newcomers and ensuring that they stayed in line, rather than giving up and going somewhere else.

I took a moment to look around the place at the genius that came out of my love and my sister. There was a countertop that followed along two walls where diners could eat right at the bar. The surface was adorned with retro napkin holders, display cases that showcased many of the desserts and other menu items, and mini juke boxes that the customers could play at their leisure.

In three of the corners, large booths were constructed that could seat seven adults comfortably. Booths also lined the walls in between, and then the rest of the room was filled with tables. Each table had a white paper table cloth, with crayons provided so the kids and adults could draw. Mia said she saw it at a restaurant once and thought it was a really neat idea. We had to make sure that said restaurant hadn't copyrighted that idea so we could use it, too. Luckily, it was a free-to-use idea and we put it into effect.

We had considered having a traditional checkerboard floor, but Ana and Mia decided they didn't want to go full-on fifty's diner. They wanted it to be more modern, but with a fifty's twist. The floor was a dark cherry wood with a slip-proof varnish on it. The booths were a similar burgundy color, while each table was teal granite. The chairs that surrounded each table were stainless steel with a chrome finish and leather cushions with an intricately embroidered pattern on each. No two were exactly the same.

The waitresses each had their hair done in a vintage style, some with pin curls, other with victory rolls, and some had the classic Marilyn Monroe style. They each wore a vintage repro dress with full circle-skirts that Ana had special ordered from her friend Micheline that designed such dresses.

I remember when we went through the hiring phase; Ana advertised that visible tattoos were welcome but not required. There was no end to the young women that wanted to work at this diner, stating they loved the tattooed pin-up fashion and were so excited to work at a place that embraced and encouraged body art.

By the end of the evening, we'd served no fewer than three hundred diners. Each waitress walked away with at least two hundred dollars in tips, and happy faces on all of them. Ana and Mia had given each waitress three dresses to rotate through, and dry-cleaning cards they could use, so they wouldn't spend a fortune keeping their uniforms clean.

"Do you think people will find it sexist that we don't have any male wait-staff?" Ana asked me after we left that night. "I didn't think of it until now. But we only had a handful of men even apply, and none of them had the right kind of experience."

"Someone might make note of it, but I wouldn't worry about it. You can always hire some later, when one of the girls leaves or something. Hospitality seems to have a high turn-around, so I wouldn't be surprised if you were going to be hiring again soon."

"Okay," she replied. Once we were home, we snuggled up in bed, made love slowly and fell into the sweet escape of sleep. We'd read the official reviews in the morning.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

* * *

Ana PoV

"Ana, the paper's here," Kate bellowed from downstairs. I extracted myself from Christian's embrace, donned my slippers and bathrobe, and headed down to see what the fuss was all about.

Reynolds, Kate, Elliot, Ethan, and Mia were all crowded around the kitchen table, each trying to read the article at the same time.

"I'll read it," I stated, snatching from the table-top.

The article read as follows.

* * *

 **A classic new gem in the big city**

 **Mammaw's Diner - Seattle, WA**

 **Reservations:** Reservations suggested, opening weekend was very busy, likely that it will continue to be so for the foreseeable future.

 **Price:** very affordable

 **Charge Cards:** V, MC, AE, DC

 **Hours:** 7 days a week, 6am to 10pm.

 **Parking:** Large lot adjacent to restaurant.

 **Cuisine:** Standard American fare with a few flares.

 **The Review:**

One of Seattle's brand new restaurants, Mammaw's Diner is the domain of chef and entrepreneur Anastasia Steele and recent graduate of The Georges Auguste Escoffier school of culinary arts, Mia Grey. Financially backed by CEO of Grey Enterprise Holdings, Christian Grey, and built by both Steele Designs and Grey Construction, it is apparent that this restaurant is a manifestation of the joining of these two high-profile families.

Steele's and Grey's traditional American comfort-cuisine creations are magical, drawing the maximum of flavor from the very freshest of ingredients. I learned that they source locally from a farm outside Seattle.

Mammaw's refined cuisine is a gem in a worthy setting. Mammaw's Diner's décor is an eclectic mix of traditional 1950s diner and a more urban setting. Diners sink into comfortable booths and at elegantly appointed tables adorned with everything from a Juke box to a bouquet of daisies in a crystal vase. Shaded table lamps provide soft lighting, and background music is a mix of 1950s classics to modern hits. Service is impeccable. The waiters and the hosts all move in a well- orchestrated dance.

Steele and Grey have created a fantastic menu that brings one back to his or her childhood while still remaining sublime and adding a modern twist to each meal. I noted from an adjacent table, that a child ordered macaroni and cheese, only it was cleverly titled "sketti n' cheese," in the menu. The meal consists of hotdogs with spaghetti noodles stabbed through the meaty pieces, creating an octopus of sorts. For an adult, this would be silly and abhorrent, but to a child, especially this child, it was the best meal ever.

The adult menu consists of hearty American favorites such as beef stew, meatloaf, cheeseburgers, and a few pasta dishes. I sampled the meatloaf. It came with a side of skin on smashed potatoes and a medley of vegetables. Each item on the plate was cooked to perfection and seasoned well. Each bite exploded in my mouth with flavor, and I'm only sorry I had just the one plate.

Overall Mammaw's Diner is running fast to the top of the chain in Seattle. I look forward to see what other culinary projects the Steele and Grey families will concoct in the future.

* * *

"I'd say that's a hell of a review," I heard Christian's voice mutter from the other side of the wall. He rounded the corner and flashed me his million dollar smile. "Great job, baby." He wrapped his arms around me from behind and squeezed me tight. "Same to you, little sis." Mia beamed at him and leaned into Ethan, who wrapped her similarly to Christian.

"Are there more?" Kate asked.

I paged through the Entertainment section and found two more reviews. "Here someone else read the next one." My heart was pounding in excitement and anticipation.

Christian took the proffered paper and read aloud.

* * *

"Another great review! And that was that professor of culinary arts guy from Stanford, right?" Elliot asked. I glanced at the author of the review and confirmed his suspicions.

The third review read much the same as the first two, each critic praising us highly for the décor, the menu and the service. I was very pleased with it all, but these were professional critics. They were paid to write these reviews. I was much more curious to see what the general populace had to say. "What about on Yelp or Google? Or even Facebook? I know a lot of people 'checked in' to the restaurant. Good thinking on establishing the Facebook page, by the way, Ethan."

'Thanks, Ana," he replied, flashing me his grin. "As of this morning, Mammaw's has 192 likes, 60 people have tweeted about it, and 40 have left comments on our page on Facebook." He paged through his phone, skimming all of the comments. "I'm pleased to announce that not a single one had a single bad thing to say. There is one where the costumer states their burger was undercooked. And rather than throwing the existing burger back on the grill, Mammaw's provided a whole new burger, with new side dishes and comped the entrée on the bill. 'That's how to properly handle customer complaints,' he said. 'I'll definitely be coming back to Mammaw's. When the burger came back out, it was without a doubt the best I've ever had. And you can't beat the price either.'"

Kate said similar things regarding the tweets she read from twitter. I hadn't succumbed to either social networking site, so I had to rely on the others to fill me in on those venues. "I think Mammaw's is a huge success!" Mia exclaims. "I knew it would be!"

"We still need to get through the first year. If every service is as great as last night's then we can rest assured that we've hit the nail on the head with this place. Speaking of which, we're about to open for breakfast service. I'd better get over there." I moved to run back upstairs to get ready, but Kate stopped me in the stairwell.

"What about Steele Designs?" Kate asked. "You're still the CEO; you're needed there."

"Anita knows everything," I answer. "And you and Ethan don't need me there, and you know it. I'll come in if anything catastrophic happens, but Kate, this restaurant is where my heart is. This is what I want to do with my life."

"I can lend a hand with that business side, too," Christian offered as he came up behind me. "I know a thing or two about running a company."

"Maybe we really should merge Steele Designs and Grey Construction," I suggest. Kate looks at me as if I've grown a third eye. "You mentioned it the night of the Coping Together event," I add. "Remember? You were so excited about hooking up with Elliot, you said we could merge the two companies. Were you just spewing words or did you mean it?"

"I meant it, but I never thought in a million years that you'd go for it."

"That was before all three of us Steeles fell in love with all three Greys. It's fate, sis. Plus after the launch of Mammaw's, I think the public knows that the two families are very close. It would make sense for the two companies to merge together."

"I'll get my PR people on it," Christian states. I look at him strangely. "Elliot runs Grey Construction, but I own it," he explains. "He makes all the decisions and everything, but ultimately, I sign the deals and write the paychecks."

I pondered the merger while I showered. Would the reveal of our business partnership with Mammaw's be enough to merit a merger of Steele Designs with Grey Enterprise Holdings? I wanted to keep Steele Designs' identity. Not be lumped in with GEH and all the subsidiaries it held. Although it wasn't public information that GEH owned Grey Construction. The public knew the two CEOs were brothers, but that was as far as it went.

Once I was dressed and downstairs, Mia and I hopped in my car and raced off to Mammaw's. We made it just in time for the managers to unlock the doors and let in the awaiting breakfast patrons. "Welcome to Mammaw's," I greeted the first party. I recognized them from the night before. This was one instance in which having eidetic memory would be a great asset.

"You dined with us last night!" I exclaimed. "Would you like the same table or a different view?"

"With all the hundreds of people that came through here last night, you remember _us_?" the wife asked, surprised.

"Of course, I never forget a face," I replied, giving them a smile. "If I recall, Christian Grey and I posed for a picture with your family when you dined on the pistachio cups for dessert, right?"

"Wow," they all chorused in unison.

"Come on," I urged. "I'll show you to your seats."

I led the family of four to their requested table and handed out the menus. "Jeannie will be your server. I hope you enjoy breakfast as much as you enjoyed dinner!"

I sat three more parties before returning to the kitchen to offer up my services there. Everything was running like a well-oiled machine. The servers were bustling in and out of the kitchen quickly and efficiently, all seeming to be in great moods, the cooks were executing Mammaw's recipes to perfection, the bus boys were quick to clear tables, the hosts were quick to fill those tables, and the meals were coming out within a sufficient amount of time, plated beautifully.

"Señora Steele?" one of the cooks addressed me.

"Por favor, me llama Ana. Aún soy senorita," I replied, winking at him. (Please, call me Ana, and I'm still a Miss).

"Bueno, este receta no tiene el nombre del niño. Es un orden de los panqueques alfabéticos." (This ticket doesn't have the kid's name on it. It's an order for the alphabet pancakes.)

"Ah, ¿cuál mesa?" I asked.

"Veintitrés," he replied. I marched out the door, went to the table and explained the situation to the family.

"Who here ordered the alphabet pancakes?" I asked.

"I did," a little girl answered, raising her hand like a school pupil. She couldn't have been a day over six.

"Wonderful, you're gonna love them. I'm just here to make sure we got your name right so it comes out perfectly. Can you spell it for me?"

The girl went red in the face, indicating she didn't know how to spell. "Or how about this, would you like the name of your favorite movie character or cartoon instead?" She lifted her head and nodded enthusiastically. "Perfect, and who is your favorite?"

"Wapunzel!" she exclaimed.

"Coming right up!" I answered. The girl's mother stopped me by putting her hand on my forearm. I had to choke back my instinctual reaction. It wouldn't do good to slap the poor woman.

"The waitress forgot to ask for her name," she explained in a whisper. "You did a great job covering for that. Thank you. Little Ana will be thrilled."

"Ana? That's my name. Well, short for Anastasia," I replied.

"That's her name, too," the mother said, smiling at me.

"Your name is Anastasia, too?" I stated, giving the little girl a huge grin. "We have the same name! Do you know where that name comes from?" I asked. She shook her head. I knelt down next to her to tell the story. "Many, many years ago, there was a very famous and very pretty princess named Anastasia in a country called Russia. The story goes that when she was little, her family had to flee from their house because an evil sorcerer named Rasputin was trying to kill them.

"Everyone but the little princess and the grandmother was killed." I realized that my story was getting a bit morbid for a six-year-old, but I decided to continue. "Then, when little Anastasia got all grown up, she found her grandmother, and together they went back home and were happy forever."

"Did Anastasia find a prince to marry?" little Ana asked.

"Not a prince, but just a regular boy. A boy who loved her more than anything, and didn't care that she was a princess. He loved her for who she was. If there's ever a boy that likes you just because you're pretty or if you have a lot of nice things, kick him to the curb. You want someone who loves you for you. Got it, Ana?"

"Got it, Ana!" she agreed. I went back to the kitchen and luckily, Rocky, the server from that section was in there collecting plates. I told the cook, Sergio, the name the little girl wanted and he stopped what he was doing to make the cakes, as their order was almost complete.

"Rocky, table twenty-three had an order for alphabet pancakes, right?" I asked.

"Yes ma'am," she replied.

"And did you collect the little girl's name when you put in the order?" I asked.

"Oh shoot! I totally forgot! I'm so sorry! I'll go get the name."

"No it's okay; I've taken care of it. My question is, is there some way we can make it easier to remember to do that?"

"Well, in the POS system, it doesn't prompt you to enter the name. You have to enter it manually as a special instruction. Maybe if the system had a pop-up that asked for the name? As for remembering at the table, that was just a one-time mistake. I assure you."

"Great. Thanks for your input, Rocky. I'll see about changing the POS system to help out more."

She smiled at me, grabbed her plates and headed out to one of her tables. Well, for the first snag in the system, it wasn't too bad. I wasn't so optimistic, though, to believe that all issues would be that easy to fix.

* * *

Christian PoV

My Ana was quite the little entrepreneur. She took to restaurant ownership like a rockstar at a sold out concert. She'd put together Steele Designs so well that it functioned perfectly without her. I stopped by just to be sure and sitting outside her office was a very strange man. He was in his mid to late forties. He eyed me curiously, and then recognition dawned on his face.

"Anita?" I asked, the woman behind the desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey. I'm sure you're aware that Miss Steele isn't in today." My body was blocking her view of the man in the waiting area, she gave me a "help me" expression, which told me she'd tried to get rid of this guy, but he remained.

"I'm Christian Grey," I said, greeting the man.

"Pierre Bhutan," he replied. His accent was thickly French, which left me even more curious as to who he was and what he wanted. "I'm waiting for Miss Anastasia Steele."

"Well, as Anita likely told you, she's not in today, and I know she won't be. She asked me to stop by and get her messages if any. Shall I pass on a message from you?"

"Is her mother's name Rebecca Louis?" the man asked. "Her biological mother, that is?" I kept my face impassive; I didn't want to give away my shock at his knowledge of Ana's past. "It's very imperative that I speak with her. I have many, many questions to ask her.

"They were airing a story about the women behind the new restaurant, pointing out that both women had been adopted. With Anastasia, they described that she was rescued from a crack house of sorts where she'd been badly beaten and neglected. Then they showed a picture of her biological mother, before and after her drug abuse. I recognized the before picture, and the name."

"How did you know Rebecca?"

"I was visiting the states on vacation with my family. I met this beautiful young woman and fell for her instantly. We dated for the duration of my vacation, and then when the time came, I had to go home, and despite my pleas, she wouldn't come with me. She wanted to finish high school in the states and go to university. I gave her my contact information and begged her to keep in touch.

"She did for a few weeks, and then suddenly the contact stopped. I couldn't reach her at the place she lived. I didn't even know she was a foster child, not that it mattered, of course. After a while I gave up looking for her. It was obvious to me that she wanted nothing to do with me.

"I never forgot her of course; she was a beautiful young woman. She deserved to have the best of anything. It saddened me greatly to learn she succumbed to drugs and alcohol. I was about to turn off the news program when I noted the ages of Rebecca's children. Mr. Grey, there's a very strong possibility that Anastasia is my daughter."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

* * *

Ana PoV

I was about to start the lunch service when my phone rang in my bra. I didn't have any pockets on this dress, so I only had so many options with where to put it. _I Will Cross the Ocean for You_ blared out of my cleavage. I blushed crimson and ran into the back office. "Christian," I answered, breathless.

"Hey baby, were you running?" he asked, chuckling.

"Yes, well, I was at the front of house when my phone started ringing in my cleavage," I explained. "I booked it to the office as fast as possible. I guess I forgot to switch it to vibrate."

"I don't want anything vibrating in your cleavage. Just me," he replied suggestively.

"I wasn't aware that you could vibrate," I answered. "So to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"Well, I stopped by Steele Designs today," he began.

"Oh, is everything alright?" I asked, suddenly worried.

"Business-wise, yes. Everything's perfect. Anita is doing fantastic. She told me to remind you that you told her that you don't pay her enough."

"She's absolutely right," I agreed, laughing. "So what else is up, then?"

"Are you free? Can you come to GEH or home? I need to discuss something with you. And I'd rather not do it over the phone." Hmm, that seemed odd. Home was closer to the restaurant than GEH, so I suggested we meet there.

"Shall I bring lunch from the Diner?" I asked.

"Sounds great, baby. I'll see you in twenty."

"Mia," I said as I hung up from the call. "Can you handle things for a while? I have to run home and meet Christian for something."

"Really Ana? A mid-day quickie? Even Ethan and I can keep it in our pants during the day."

"Oh it's nothing of the sort. He said he had something to discuss with me… at least I don't think it's for that reason. Now I'm not sure," I joked.

I packed up my few things, grabbed a couple to-go boxes with hot hoagies and fries and headed home. "Honey I'm home," I called out, knowing Christian had beaten me home.

"Hey baby, smells good," Christian replied, appearing from the stairwell. "Food smells good, too," he added after kissing me hello.

"So what's with the impromptu lunch meeting?" I asked.

"You had a visitor in your office today," he answered. "Anita tried to get him to leave, but he was very insistent that he stay until you arrived. Even if it meant staying all day and coming back first thing in the morning. Luckily, Anita didn't tell him that you were at the Diner, or he probably would have shown up there. I shudder to think of what kind of scene would have played out."

"Who was he?" I finally asked. I could tell Christian was stalling.

"His name is Pierre Bhutan," he said. "He told me he thinks that you're his biological daughter." He said the words so fast as if it would shock me less.

"He said what?"

"Please don't make me repeat it. If I didn't know you'd ream me a new one if I kept the information to myself, I would never have told you. Given how you reacted to finding out Elena was your grandmother, I figured you'd want nothing to do with any biological ties."

"Did he know about me?" I asked. If he knew all about me and only now decided to come forward, I'd know it was only about my money and status he was after, but if he hadn't a clue that I existed, it was a different matter altogether.

"No. Not until he saw a news story on you." He continued with this man's tale of recognizing Rebecca Louis' photo from the news bio they did on me before the restaurant was opened. "He said he never even knew Rebecca was pregnant. I'm usually pretty good at reading people, Ana. And I believe him. The question is, do you want to get to know him? Do you want to meet him?"

"What did you tell him?" I asked. I couldn't think of what to do, or what to say. This was such a shock to my system. I thought we were going to be done with drama for a while. What the hell did this man want from me?

"I said that I would relay his message to you, took down his contact information, and told him that if you were interested in contacting him that you'd do so. Otherwise I would tell him to bugger off, more or less."

"Bugger off?"

"Yes, well, the man had an accent, so my go-to was a British phrase. So sue me." He shrugged, smirking at me. I giggled and stepped into his arms. "I think we should retire by the time you're 30," he added.

"What? That's only a few years away. Why on earth?"

"Because, I want you all to myself for a good long time, Miss Steele. If we're both retired, we'll have nothing but time together."

"I'll consider it. And I'll consider talking with Mr. Bhutan. Let's eat lunch first." And with that we dug into the food I brought from the diner. Christian's frequent moans of approval told me that it was another star on the menu. Mia texted me a couple times to tell me all was well, and I didn't need to come back if I didn't want to, and she'd be sure to let me know if she got in over her head.

"I'm sure she can handle it," Christian said when I relayed her message. "I can take the rest of the day, too. Shall we go for a dip in the hot tub?"

"That sounds excellent," I agreed. He whipped out his phone and sent a quick text message to Ros to let her know that he wouldn't be returning and that she was to take over on the few meetings he had left.

"I've got to meet this Ros sometime," I said as I shed my clothing and stepped into the tub. "She sounds remarkable."

"Almost as remarkable as you," he replied, eying me shamelessly.

"Mr. Grey. Are you saying I have competition?"

"Perhaps if she wasn't a lesbian," he joked. "Her wife is quite amazing as well. Perhaps we can double with them some time." He stepped into the tub then and I gawked at his chiseled physique the entire time.

"Double? As in double date?" I asked.

"Yes, of course. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing at all… I've just never heard of you suggesting that before. We've never doubled with anyone before. And those few dinners that involved your siblings and mine don't count because they were all business related. They weren't double or triple dates."

"Are you saying you'd like to do that more often?" he asked.

"Well yes," I decided. "If you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have a lot of friends. Or any for that matter. Anita and Reynolds are the closest I have to friends. Otherwise it's just been me and my siblings my entire life. My siblings…. Holy shit. Do you think that Bhutan guy has other kids? Do you think I have other brothers and sisters?"

"I'm not sure yet, baby. I called Welch after I called you, to have him do a background check on the guy. We should know shortly." As if on cue, we heard Christian's phone ringing from inside the bedroom. He'd left it on the night stand when he started removing his clothing. "I'll check it in a while. Right now, I want you. So badly."

I reached down and felt his growing member harden in my hand. "Why yes of course, Mr. Grey." I turned around and sat on his lap with my back against his chest. I could feel him sliding in between my folds, teasing me. I sat up slightly and let myself slide down on him, feeling him fill me to the hilt.

There was nothing quite like that initial feeling of him inside me. It was almost better than the earth-shattering orgasm that would soon follow. Sometimes more than once, or even three times if I was lucky and his stamina was extra high. We came together more often than not, which was excellent as well. I loved the feeling of him losing control and spilling himself into me. It was like having part of him with me all the time. And considering we made love every day, multiple times a day, I was always connected to him on that level.

I began to move up and down, using his thighs to balance myself. He gripped my hips and helped set the pace. "You know baby, this is a great position for me to take your other entrance from." This made me freeze mid movement. "If and when you're ready, baby. I'm not going to do it now. But trust me when I say you can gain great pleasure from that as well."

"Okay, we can try it someday," I consented and continued moving on him. "You know, Mia thought that I was ditching for a quickie."

"A quickie? Oh no, Miss Steele. I'm going to savor you. You're going to come so many times before I do, it'll make your head spin."

And I'm surprised that my head wasn't literally spinning once he finally came inside me. After six orgasms I lost count. Three in the tub, then when we realized we were getting pruny, we moved to the bed where he gave me at least three more. He made slow passionate love for a while, then he'd fuck me senseless, causing me to claw at the sheets, at the headboard, whatever I could get my hands on to help absorb the pleasure. The orgasms got more and more intense with each passing one. They were almost becoming painful at that point. I told him as much and he soon relented his torture on my body and came. "That's some self-control you've got there, Mr. Grey."

"I've been saving that one for a rainy day," he told me. "I knew after my news that you'd need some kind of distracting release, so I was only too happy to oblige. Don't be expecting me to hold off that long all the time. You've no idea how hard it is not to come as soon as I enter you."

"Is that so?" I ask.

"Oh yes. The moment my cock breaches your delectable pussy, it's all I can do to keep from squealing and coming instantly. It takes intense control, my dear. You're so amazing."

"I was thinking, the moment you enter me is almost as amazing as the orgasms that you give me. The initial sensation of you filling me is enough to send me over the moon. Even if I didn't get the amazing climaxes, just the feeling of you being connected to me would be enough."

* * *

Christian PoV

Her words were making me so endlessly happy and I felt exactly the same about her. I decided it was the perfect moment for me to show her my latest purchase. I hoped she was receptive to it.

"I love you so much, Ana. I want to show you how much I love you."

"Um, I'm fairly certain that you just did. What more could you do?"

"Would you consider wearing a token of my love?" I asked, slightly wary of her reaction.

"Depends on the token," she answered. I could tell she was wondering whether I was about to produce an engagement ring.

"Well, I saw this the other day, and I know you said no sparkly or shiny things, but I couldn't resist. It's not an engagement ring. Just a promise that I will love you forever, and when we're both ready, I will be replacing it with something different." I reached out for my suit jacket that had been discarded earlier and retrieved the small Cartier box from within.

I opened the box and presented it to her. Inside the box was a ring that was solid platinum embellished with tiny diamonds all around the band. At the top of the ring was a carving of two hearts in an infinity symbol. The hearts were filled with tiny rubies. I'd had the inside engraved with my name and hers. "I got a matching one for myself. I know it's not traditional for men to wear promise rings, but I want the world to know that I'm off the market."

"Christian, it's beautiful," she whispered. "I love you so much." She took the ring from the box and placed it on her left finger. "I don't know if it's traditional for promise rings to go on the left hand, but either way, I don't care. The world can know that I'm yours and yours alone." I followed suit with my own ring which had sapphires in place of the rubies on her ring. She reached over and ran her thumb across the ring.

"This suits you, Mr. Grey. I think it'll complement everything you wear," she told me.

"What if the only thing I want to wear is you?"

"Well it complements me best of all," she agreed.

After a shower, we got dressed and headed down to the kitchen. Ethan and Kate had arrived, Elliot was on his way, and Mia was still at the Diner, overseeing the dinner shift. Soon, the owners wouldn't have to be at the diner every day, and could rely on the managers to ensure everything was running smoothly. But for the first few weeks, it was good for either Ana or Mia to make an appearance, schmooze with the customers and make good rapport with the employees.

"Ana!" Kate bellowed, eying the ring. "What on earth is that?!"

"A promise," Ana replied simply. She wouldn't elaborate further than that, and neither would I.

We ate a simple meal of spaghetti Bolognese and dessert was a Tiramisu that Mrs. Jones sent over from Escala. She still liked to cook for me every now and then, and felt odd just cleaning a house that was already spotless considering I hadn't set foot there since moving in with Ana. I offered the master bedroom to Taylor and Gail, but they politely refused, insisting that the staff quarters were more than sufficient.

Eventually I'd have to sell that place and perhaps Gail would someday make an honest man out of Taylor. I'd buy them a house as a wedding gift, or at least commission Steele Designs to have it built to match their dream house. I was sure that Ana's brilliant teams could conjure something up that would make those two very happy. It'd be a place that Taylor could have his daughter to, whenever he wanted.

I found myself thinking of children. With my previous lifestyle, children were never on the table. Even now they're not, considering Ana can't bear children. A fact that hadn't bothered me and never would. If the time came that she and I wanted to be parents, we could adopt. Of all the people in the world, she and I should be all for adoption.

Gazing at Ana, I watched her ring sparkle and shine when it caught the light, throwing prisms around the room. Mine would do the same, but it was firmly tucked under the table, grasping her right hand tightly within.

"I have some news," Ana said once the dishes had been cleared. "Christian went by Steele Designs today and I had a visitor."

"Who was it?" Ethan asked. "A new hot-shot client?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "His name is Pierre Bhutan, and he's claiming to be my biological father." Collective gasps were heard around the table.

"I know that name," Elliot states. "It's super familiar, but I can't quite place it. Let me think a moment."

I realized that I hadn't checked my phone message that Welch had left. Running upstairs, I snatched it off the bedside table and quickly checked the messages.

 _"_ _Sir, Welch here. I checked into that name and learned that he's a big business man back in New York. He's got properties all over the island of Manhattan and some overseas in France. He's mostly into real estate, rental properties are the majority. High-roller ones that are ten-grand a month to rent. I do show a brief vacation during the time that Miss Steele would have been conceived in which he spent a good share of time in North Carolina, particularly on the Outer Banks._

 _I checked into Rebecca Louis' history and show that she was living in foster care in Outer Banks at that time. From what I could tell, she was traipsing up and down the beach trying to find someone who would pay her for drawings that she'd done. She was an artist before the drugs took over._

 _Only my opinion Sir, but this man has enough net-worth to rival you, so I hardly believe he'd be here after Miss Steele's money or yours. If I can get my hands on a DNA sample of his, I can run a paternity test to ensure his claims. Or perhaps Miss Steele would insist on one anyway. I might suggest that to her if I were you, Sir._

 _I dug as deep as I could and everything about him is completely legitimate and on the level. No sour business deals, no disgruntled employees, no sordid love affairs apart from the one he allegedly had with Rebecca Louis. He's been married twice, has three children between the two marriages. Ages 19, 17 and 12. No history of infidelity. His parents are still living in France, retired teacher and architect. That's all the information for now, Sir. Please let me know if there's anything else you need and I'll be sure to get right on it._

I pulled the phone away from my ear, took a deep breath and headed back downstairs to my angel and to tell her the news I'd just heard. It might have been a better idea to just have her listen to the message directly. "Angel, I have that information that Welch looked up," I whispered to her. "Do you want to listen to the message?"

"No, just give me the cliff's notes," she replied.

I relayed the information, stressing that Welch believed the man to be legit and honest. "If Welch believes it, then I would, too. I've always trusted his judgment and he's not once led me astray."

She considered my words for a moment, her nose twitching back and forth as she thought. How had that little quirk slipped by me all this time? It was adorable. She looked like a rabbit. All she needed was a few whiskers and a carrot to munch on.

"Where's his number?" she asked. I pulled the card he gave me out of my wallet and handed it to her. She picked up her phone and dialed it quickly. "Mr. Bhutan? This is Anastasia Steele. … I'm fine thank you…. Yes I would like to meet…. Can you come by my office tomorrow morning at nine AM? … Perfect. I'll see you there. Thank you."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

* * *

Ana PoV

"Christian, would you call Welch back and ask him to accompany us to the meeting tomorrow morning?" I asked as I set down my phone. "I want him there to read Bhutan and let me know if he still thinks he's legit. Also, can he do a paternity test or will I have to procure that elsewhere?"

"He can do one," Christian answered. "He told me as much on the message. We'll get a sample while he's there. Whether by asking for one or inconspicuously."

"Perfect. Thank you, dear."

"Anything for you, Ana. I mean that." He pulled me into his arms and simply held me there.

"So if he doesn't want my money or your money, what do you think he wants?" I asked.

"I think he wants to know his daughter, Ana," Christian answered. "I think he thought of your mother often and fondly. And when he learned that his love affair with her produced a baby girl, he wants nothing more than to know you, and be a part of your life, in whatever capacity you'll have him. I hope he'll understand that you already have a loving wonderful father and that he can't step in or replace Ray. But it's okay to love him if you decided. If a father can love two daughters, why can't a daughter love two fathers, right?"

"You're far too smart for your own good, Grey," I teased.

"You'd do well to remember that, Steele," he retorted, chuckling. We cleared the dishes, Ethan miraculously volunteering to wash them. I figured out that Mia was due back from the Diner at any moment, and he'd want her to see him doing something domestic for a change.

"I remember who he is!" Elliot exclaimed, looking like a light bulb just went off above his head. "He's huge into real estate. He tried to buy one of the properties I was renovating a couple years ago. He was going to tear it all down and put up an apartment building, completely obliterating the original architecture I was restoring. I wouldn't have it. He tripled his offer eventually, and I still turned him down."

"What building was it?" Ethan asked.

"The paramount," Elliot answered. "Can you imagine not having the Paramount in Seattle? I mean come on!"

This slightly tarnished my impression of the man. But I knew that business was business to the majority of the world, and many didn't care about the history a place may have had. He likely saw it as an ideal location with lots of businesses nearby, making it perfect for any Seattle resident.

Christian and I retired to our bedroom for the evening, choosing to curl up in bed and watch a movie. Something we had not done once since we began dating. Apparently Christian wasn't big into movies or television, considering them both to be a waste of time. I was a huge movie buff and bound and determined to sway him to the silver screen side. I logged into my Netflix account from my Blu-ray player and handed Christian the remote.

Hopping off the bed, I padded into my closet and returned in a set of silk pajamas, a sky blue tank top and long flowing pants. Christian removed his pants, socks and dress-shirt, and took the lounge pants I offered him, leaving his t-shirt on. The only thing better than a shirtless Christian, was a Christian wearing a fitted white t-shirt. Hot damn. The muscles and sinews in his chest and abdomen were defined, the sleeves fitting tightly around his biceps, stopping just above the curve of his tricep. Yum. Yum. Yum.

"A picture would last longer," he teased, smirking at me.

"Eidetic memory," I countered, tapping my temple. "I never need a camera."

"Touché," he agreed, stroking an imaginary beard on his chin. "How do you think I'd look with a beard?"

"Just as handsome as always," I told him. "You could grow your hair out like Jesus and have a long zz-top beard and you'd still be sex on legs… and all mine."

"I'll definitely always be all yours, my love."

In the morning, we showered, dressed and ate a quick breakfast before heading to my office to meet with Mr. Bhutan. Christian kept reassuring me that all would be well, but in light of recent events involving his and my biological relations, I wasn't as optimistic. Anita was already there, pot of coffee waiting for me, and a smile on her face. Reynolds was at his usual post, just next to my door. Well, it became his usual post after Hyde-Gate happened. He simply nodded at me and resumed his impassive expression that only the best of security personnel can master. Taylor had it down, too.

"Morning, Miss Steele, Mr. Grey," she greeted.

"For the last time, call me Ana. We've been through enough that I think we can use each other's first names, Anita."

"Yes ma'am," she joked, saluting me.

"And go ahead and call me Christian," my man added. "I did hold you hostage that one time, even if it was in jest." We laughed together; I was glad we were able to laugh about that horrible day already.

Glancing at the clock on her desk, I noticed that we had about fifteen minutes before Mr. Bhutan would arrive. "Anita, will you send Mr. Bhutan right in when he arrives?" I ask.

"Yes, of course," she agreed. Christian and I passed her desk and went into my office. I strode to my desk and sat down, letting out a long breath. Perhaps I was more nervous than I thought I was.

Christian sat on the edge of my desk and eyed me carefully. "Everything's going to be fine, love. You know that, right?"

"I'm trying to know that, but with everything else that has happened, it's hard to be optimistic about it," I told him, revealing my earlier thoughts. "I know Welch said he checks out, and you think he's on the level, but I still have my doubts." He leaned forward and cupped my face in his hands.

"I love you Anastasia, no matter what happens today or any day, I'll always care for you. I'll always be here for you." He closed the distance between us and pressed his lips to mine.

My libido went into overdrive, and it was all I could do to not throw him onto the desk and have my wicked way with him. But I knew we didn't have enough time, and getting all worked up wasn't going to help the situation. Reluctantly, I pulled away from him, planting one last chaste kiss to his velvet lips and sat back down in my chair. He resumed his leaning position on my desk, but moved to the side a bit. A wide smirk decorated his face.

With that, a young man strolled in the office. It was still too early for Bhutan to be there, and this man was far too young to be any father of mine. "Welch, thank you for coming," Christian said, as he turned to see the man. Oh right, I had asked for Welch to be here. He must have been on the calendar event otherwise he'd never have gotten past Anita or Reynolds. "This is my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele," he introduced.

"A pleasure," Welch said, taking my offered hand. "Mr. Bhutan is due here at 9, yes?" I nodded. "Good, then I can go over his file with you for a few minutes, if that's alright."

"By all means," I agreed. I gestured for him to sit down. He took one of the two chairs on the other side of my desk and placed a manila folder on the surface.

"Here's all the information I was able to find about him. As I informed earlier, he seems totally legit." I paged through the files, seeing a myriad of background checks, employee files, recommendation letters from college professors, and more. True to his word, the guy seemed to pan out. But then it almost seemed too perfect.

Christian called me out on that thought. "Just because he looks too good to be true doesn't mean he is."

A knock on the door sobered the mood and Welch quickly put all the papers back in the file, handing it to me. I tucked it in my desk drawer and called out that whoever was there could come in. "Hello Miss Steele," the man greeted. He seemed slightly taken aback when he noticed that I wasn't alone. "I'm Pierre Bhutan. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." He strolled towards my desk, his eyes glistening. It looked like he was about to cry.

"Hello Mr. Bhutan," I greeted. I held my hand out to him which he took and brought to his lips for a chaste kiss. _Oh right, he's French_ , I thought. "I believe you've already met Mr. Grey," I said, gesturing to Christian. "This is Mr. Welch, head of security," I added, pointing to the other man. I left out that he was head of Grey Enterprise Holdings' security, not mine. Welch didn't seem put out by that.

"Pleased to meet you, and good to see you again, sir," Bhutan replied, shaking Welch's hand then Christian's. "I imagine you've run checks on me," he guessed. "I hope everything came out acceptably."

"So far," I replied. "I do have to say, with all that has happened in recent months, this is kind of the icing on the cake in many ways. So forgive me if I seem rather skeptical of your true purpose here; experience has taught me to be very, very cautious with matters of biological relations."

"Totally understandable," he agreed.

"Please, do sit," I said. Christian pulled a chair from near the sofa and sat next to me on my side of the desk, while Bhutan was seated next to Welch. "I understand that you believe you may be my biological father?" I began.

"Yes. And now, seeing you in person, I know it to be true. I'll happily submit to any paternity testing you wish to do, but just looking into your eyes, I know that you're of my blood." I pressed him to continue. "You have my mother's eyes. Beautiful eyes, same color, shape, and liveliness. I'd know those eyes anywhere." I could feel a light blush smatter my cheeks and I looked down for a moment.

"I would like to have a paternity test done, yes," I replied. "May I ask why it took you twenty-six years to discover you had a daughter?" I had heard the story from Christian, but I wanted to hear it from the source.

"I didn't know you existed until recently," he replied. "If I had it to do all over again, I would have worked harder to find your mother. She disappeared off the face of the earth. Not that I didn't have the resources to find her, but it rather seemed like she didn't want to be found. And then I moved on with my life. I rarely thought of her, to be honest. In my head, she was just a young summer fling, nothing more, nothing less.

"If I had known that she was pregnant with my child, I never would have left. I never would have let my family convince me to leave her behind and never look back. And even if she tried to resist me, I would have worked harder to at least get her to let me be a part of your life. I would have loved being a father to you. Even though I was young, far too young for the responsibility, I would have stepped up."

Part of me resented the fact that he didn't work harder to find Rebecca, but a larger part of me was so glad he was here now. And I couldn't forget the fact that if it hadn't been for every life event that I went through, I never would have met Christian. If this man had raised me, I'd have been raised French, likely as not, wouldn't have two wonderful siblings, and wouldn't have met the love of my life. Then again, perhaps fate worked in mysterious ways and I would have met Christian anyway, but under drastically different circumstances.

He would have been exactly the same as he is now, I imagined. He would still have turned out to be the Dom, billionaire entrepreneur, but I wouldn't have been able to understand him. It took my own horrid childhood experiences for me to understand and relate to what he went through. Ultimately, that is what helped us both overcome everything that we've dealt with in our lives. Our understanding of each other's struggles. Without that, he'd probably be in his playroom now with a sub and wouldn't pay me any never mind. Without that, I'd probably be living in France, acting as a debutant or whatever title I'd have and would never know that true love laid across the pond.

"As soon as I saw the news story about you, and your history, I got on a plane and came here. There's nothing more that I want than to get to know you. I know I can't be a father to you, but I would love to be a part of your life. When I got here, I figured out where your building was and found your office. Then I met Mr. Grey, here," he gestured to Christian. "I assume he's a business partner of yours?" he asked.

"No, we're together," I replied, reaching over and taking Christian's hand in mine.

"Oh, you're a lovely couple. L'amour!" He clapped his hands together in joy. "I see rings! Are you married?"

"Not yet, just promised to each other," Christian answered. "I just wanted a ring, too," he added. Bhutan smirked knowingly.

"Listen, Mr. Bhutan. I've a busy day ahead of me and I need time to process all that you've said today. I'm not opposed to getting to know each other, and potentially my other siblings, too, pending the paternity test of course."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you're very busy," he agreed. "Do you need to take my blood or…"

"I can just swab your cheek, Sir," Welch answered. He dug a cotton swab that was sheathed in a plastic tube out of his pocket. "I'll have the results by tomorrow morning."

"Excellent, thank you, Welch. And thank you, Miss Steele for accommodating me today."

"Please call me Ana," I told him. "Even if it turns out that I'm not your daughter, I think it's perfectly fine for to you use my first name."

"Oh, yes, lovely. And call me Pierre… Mr. Grey," he said, turning to Christian.

"Mr. Bhutan," Christian offered, giving the man his hand to shake again. Pierre awkwardly said goodbye again and headed out the door. As soon as I heard the elevator ding, I sat back down.

"Well, what do you think?" Christian asked.

"I think that man's my father," I answered. "Do you both agree?"

"You favor him quite a bit," Welch agreed. "Even some mannerisms are the same, I noticed. I can tell you that even more so, I believe he truly wants to simply get to know the daughter he never knew he had. And he's very worried that you don't want the same from him."

"It's like I told him. I'm not opposed to it, but I certainly won't have him be the one walking me down the aisle at our wedding."

* * *

Christian PoV

Her words of walking down the aisle instantly had me envisioning our wedding. On a beach beneath the starry sky, lit only by a few strategically placed candles in the sand. Ana would wear a simple cotton dress, bare feet with her toes painted with tropical colors, and I would wear a linen shirt and matching pants. I pictured my sister, Kate, and Anita wearing matching lavender dresses, each holding a single hibiscus bloom in their hands. To my left would be Elliot, Ethan, and Taylor, each with a matching hibiscus bloom in the pocket of their lavender linen shirts. Ana walked towards me, her hair curled slightly and blowing in the breeze, held back by a hibiscus bloom perched above her ear. The dress billowed around her with each step, reminding me of the sails on the Grace.

Ana snapping her fingers in front of my face pulled me from my daydream. "Earth to Christian," she teased. "Where'd you go?"

"A beach at midnight," I answered. "You were in a white dress."

"Oh dear… I make one off-hand comment about walking down an aisle and the man succumbs to daydreams," she said.

"Miss Steele?" Anita said, poking her head in the door. "Mrs. Elena Lincoln is here to see you. I've told her to leave and Security is on their way to escort her off the premises, but I wanted to let you know."

"Send her in," Ana said.

"What?!" I bellowed.

"I'm just going to ensure that she's going to make good on her decision to turn herself in. She has yet to do it, which is only hurting her more."

Ana sat back down at her desk and shooed me and Welch into the coat closet nearby. "Not a peep from either of you, understand?" We nodded and silenced ourselves while we waited with baited breath for what kind of altercation was about to ensue.

"Mrs. Lincoln. To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?" Ana asked, nonchalantly. I had to hold in my chuckle at her tone.

"You ruined me! You two-bit skank whore! I'm going to prison because of you!" Elena was in tears, sounded drunk as a skunk, and was nearly insane with rage. I wanted to burst out of the closet to Ana's aid, but sure enough, the woman had locked me in it. Of course she did.

"Mrs. Lincoln, I did nothing of the sort. You dug your own grave when you decided to prey upon a fifteen-year-old boy. You're a sane individual, Elena. You knew better. At least you should. If you don't, then maybe you can plead insanity." Ana was far too calm for the situation, in my opinion.

"You took him from me. Christian was just about to come back to me, and then you had to get your meddling hands into him. You'll pay for this." I heard shuffling then the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.

"No!"


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

* * *

Ana PoV

As soon as I saw the gun come out of her purse, I hit the deck, thankful that my desk was lined with reinforced steel. Both Kate and Ethan had called me paranoid with that, but I knew that the world was a dangerous place and you never knew when an unruly employee was going to go postal. Plus, guns were nothing to be trifled with, and I knew for certain that Elena had no fucking clue how to use one. She had the damn thing loaded and cocked inside her purse. Her collagen infused lipstick could have moved around and pushed the trigger enough to make it go off. Stupid trollop. Now she was ensuring her prison stay would last much longer than her original sentence. At this point, she had attempted murder to add to the list.

"Who's in your closet?!" She demanded. Clearly she heard Christian yelling from the other side of the door. I distinctly said no peeps from them, but of course, the gun going off caused him to freak out.

"No one of your concern," I replied, peeking out from behind my desk. She had her gun trained on the closet door, ready to pull the trigger at a moment's notice.

"Come out of there, whoever you are!" she yelled.

"Can't. Locked in," I told her. "Listen, Elena. All you're doing here is ensuring that your prison sentence gets longer and longer." Thank god I had the good sense to install a panic button on the underside of my desk. It would send a message to Anita and to building Security that there was a potential threat in my office. Security could come bursting in at any moment. Given that Elena still had the gun in her hand… that could go poorly.

"Elena, give me the gun," I implored. "You don't want to make this any worse than it already is."

"You ruined me!" She moved her arm to aim the gun right at me. I was far enough away that I was sure her aim would end up nowhere near me, but I wasn't about to move closer to take that chance.

"Okay, fine," I replied, placating her. "I ruined you. And I'm sorry for that. I was only trying to protect myself. After the childhood I had, I'm sure you can understand that."

"I… well, yes, I can understand. That's if what you say happened to you as a child is true."

"Oh it's all true. I promise you that. I couldn't make that shit up if I tried." She waved the gun back and forth as she considered my words. Then her tears took over and she dropped the weapon to the floor, collapsing next to it. First I ran and picked up the gun, using the scarf from around my neck to do so. Then I let Christian and Welch out of the closet. And boy, were they mad. Especially Welch. His face was red with fury, red as Christian's hair.

"Ana! What the hell were you thinking?!" Christian bellowed.

"How was I supposed to know she'd pull a gun on me?!" I yelled back. Security came bursting through the door, Reynolds first. He assessed the situation, saw that no one was hurt other than the collapsed elderly woman on the floor, and called the police who then instructed us all to remain where we were and not touch anything. I had Reynolds tell them that I moved the gun only to prevent the woman from grabbing it again. It was sitting wrapped in my scarf on my desk.

Christian pulled me into his arms and crushed me against him. He was holding me so tight it was like he was trying to meld us into one person. "Sweetheart, physics is going to prevent us from merging into one being, no matter how hard you squeeze me," I managed to squeak out. He loosened his grip minutely, allowing me to take in oxygen, but he was still holding me uncomfortably tight.

The police arrived and I had to talk around Christian because he wouldn't let me go. "I'm sorry officers, after what happened here a few months ago, he's a bit frazzled. Understandably so."

"Yes, that's perfectly alright. Miss Steele, can you please describe what happened?" Officer West asked.

"My assistant, Anita, announced that Elena Lincoln was here. Given my history with the woman, I figured she wanted to try to make amends with me, or something. I didn't want these two caught up in it, so I ordered them into the closet. I had no idea she'd be armed. She burst in here, drunk as a skunk accusing me of ruining her life and then pulled the gun out. It went off once, but I had already hid behind my desk as soon as I saw the thing come out of her purse. She then pointed it at the closet door, having heard Christian yell. She didn't know it was him and demanded that whoever was in the closet come out. I told her they were locked in and they couldn't come out.

"She went on again about how I ruined her, so instead of arguing, I agreed, trying to calm her down. I apologized for whatever it was she thinks I did and she started crying, dropped the gun, then collapsed on the floor.

"I took the scarf from my neck and picked up the gun. It's sitting there," I said, pointing to the desk. "Then I let these two out of the closet, security came in and Reynolds called you all. Christian latched on to me and hasn't let me go since." Officer West smirked at that last statement and took a few more notes.

"I can see a bullet hole here in the wall, tests on Mrs. Lincoln's hands and clothing will confirm if she was the one that pulled the trigger. Do you mind coming in for the same tests?" the officer asked.

"Not at all, however we can help," I answered. Christian didn't acknowledge the officer's presence, let alone answer her question. "We all will," I promised. "Just give me a few moments to handle this?" I asked, pointing to Christian. She nodded and stepped away.

"Sweetheart, I need you to let me go. We have to go to the police station so they can test us for gun powder residue," I told him as soothingly as I could. He didn't respond. "Christian? Honey, I need you to listen to me."

"Ana," he breathed. "I can't ever lose you."

"I know, baby," I replied, stroking his hair. "And you won't. I'm fine. Nothing happened, okay. I need you to unwrap your arms from around me, we have to go to the police station and we can't get in the car if you're holding me like this."

Finally after a bit more coaxing, he let me go, keeping one of my hands locked firmly in his. I was sure to have bruises on my sides and back from how tight he was holding me, but I didn't care. I was just as worried about him getting hurt as he was about me. As soon as the troll pointed her gun at the closet, I nearly lost it. All the training my Dad ever taught me kept me from losing my cool, though. Guns were not toys, and the people wielding them were to be treated with caution and respect.

We got into my car and followed the patrol cars to the station. One of the officers sat in the passenger seat of my car, to ensure that I didn't try to make a quick getaway. I had nothing to hide, no one was hurt, and so I wasn't sure why he was eying me so suspiciously. Christian and Welch sat uncomfortably in the back seat. I was sure Welch was used to doing the driving and Christian felt too far away from me. If he had his way, I'd be sitting on his lap.

When we reached the police station, Christian all but pulled me out of the car through the window to get me back into his arms. "Christian, baby, you really need to calm down, okay?"

"I'm sorry… I… I just can't bear the thought of what could have happened to you."

"Dwelling on what could have happened will not help things, Christian. I wasn't hurt; you weren't hurt. The only one that was remotely injured was the pedophile and she more than deserved it."

"Pedophile?" The officer queried, who was now standing next to us. "Mrs. Lincoln?"

"Yes, officer. A Pedophile," I answered. "She's already set to serve time from what I understand. That was why she came to my office. She thinks that because I called her out on it, that it's my fault that she's going to prison."

"Hmm," he said, cryptically. His eyes kept going from me to Christian and back again. He focused on the man in my arms for a long beat before realization dawned on his face. He knew that Mrs. Lincoln had abused Christian. He figured it out. "Follow me."

Inside the police station, they ran tests on my hands and clothing to see if I had any gun powder residue. The tests of course came back negative, the same for both Christian and Welch. Mrs. Lincoln was carted off to parts unknown, which was a good thing. I could not be held responsible for my actions if I was in an enclosed space with that wench. Sans firearms, of course.

I gave the story to three different officers, repeating the words verbatim every time. They called me out on that, saying I said exactly the same thing to each person. "Of course I did. It's the truth. It's what happened. Plus, I have eidetic memory, so I can recall every detail of the incident in perfect clarity. Secondly, I can recall having given this story the first time, also in perfect clarity, so reciting the same words three more times is child's play."

"Are there any security cameras inside your office?" Officer West asked me.

"No, right outside, yes, but not inside the office," I answered. Christian looked at me with a horrified expression on his face. "I like my privacy, and I don't need all the interactions within my office walls recorded for someone to get their grubby gossipy hands on. No thank you."

"Ana, there are ways of encrypting that data," Christian complained.

"Yes, and there are also ways of hacking the encryption. I've thought this over, Christian. I didn't open this business yesterday." I crossed my arms across my chest and dared him to contradict me again. He relented, leaning back against one of the desks and removed himself from the conversation. I knew we'd talk more about it later.

After a few more questions, and a statement from Christian regarding the pedophile charges against Elena, we were released. Rather than going to my office or to Christian's we decided to head home. Apparently for a much needed discussion regarding my safety.

"You're selfless, Ana. I get that. And it's one of my favorite things about you. But you also lack any sort of self-preservation. You let a woman with a gun into your office, locked me and Welch into the closet. Welch! Who is one of the few men I'd trust with a gun, and always carries one. While I don't agree with the use of firearms, I understand that with my amount of power, there are people who come after me, and I need to be kept safe. Which is why I've got cameras covering every nook and cranny of both GEH and Escala.

"When Jack Hyde decided to turn Steele Designs into ground zero of the first major explosion in the history of Washington State, you went to meet him. Willingly! I begged and pleaded with you to not jump into the fray, but you did. Why do you do this? This reckless behavior… It's going to make me go gray early!" He sat down on the bed and began wringing his hands through his hair, pulling on the roots much harder than he's ever pulled on mine.

I gave him a few minutes to calm down before I replied. "I don't lack self-preservation," I began quietly. "If anything I have rather high amounts of it. However, I also possess the knowledge and training in how to deal with risky situations such as Hyde-Gate and now Lincoln-Gate. I have extensive and I mean extensive training in various martial arts, gun safety, and several other defense mechanisms that I can and have used to take down assailants. I had the situation under control. Even when she pulled out the gun, I knew what to do. You and Welch were the only unknown variables in that equation. I couldn't know how you would react, which is why I shoved you in the closet. And when Hyde was there, why I had Anita shuffle you out of the building. And look at what happened when you went against my wishes. You. Got. Shot.

"So you can't sit here and chastise me about my apparent lack of self-preservation when you clearly haven't a clue as to the lengths I've gone to, to ensure that I'm always safe and always in control of my surroundings. You don't notice when we go places and I survey the area to ensure that I can get us to the nearest exit should disaster befall. You aren't aware that I'm constantly on edge whenever I'm outside my office or my home. I'm painfully aware of my surroundings at all times, constantly reminded of the horrors I've endured both as a child and more recently. That alone has made me the cautious, but overly prepared woman I am today."

Christian stared into my eyes a long time, considering and processing my words. "You're really that on edge all the time?" he asked, reaching out and caressing my face. I leaned into his touch and nodded solemnly. "I wish you didn't have to be, but I know the dangers that are out there, too. And now we're both such high-profile people, we do constantly have to be aware of everything. That's why I pay Taylor, Welch, Sawyer and the rest of my team as much as I do to ensure that I'm safe."

He pulled me into his arms and held me close. Not as tightly as he was earlier, as if he was worried I'd disappear into thin air, but a more affectionate, emotional embrace. It was as if he was pouring all the love he felt for me into his arms. I pulled away slightly so I could lift my mouth to his. "I need to be connected to you," he said. "I need to be inside you."

"Yes," I agreed. I knew he needed the connection with me. The one that only our love-making could provide. And I was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

Christian PoV

I was so furious, worried, anxious, and horrified that I could hardly move. As soon as I saw that Elena's gunshot did not injure my love, I pulled her in my arms and held her as if my life depended on it. Because, frankly, it did.

I half wanted to pick up the gun and shoot Elena myself, and the other half wanted to punish Ana so harshly for making me so worried about her. Every second I spent in that closet was pure agony. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Not even on Elena.

Finally, back at home after the dreadful ordeal with the police, I had Ana in bed, naked, and writhing beneath me. Part of me wanted to punish-fuck her, but after her speech about how cautious she is all the time, I knew she needed me to make tender, sweet love to her. The connection was really all I needed. Being one with my love told me everything I ever needed to know about her. We were together, happy, and so in love. She clung to me, digging her fingers into my back as I slowly pumped in and out of her. This wasn't about release, it wasn't about pleasure. It was about her and me. It was about showing our love to each other.

Eventually, she squeaked out an orgasm, and my own followed. While they weren't as intense as she and I were both used to, the emotions behind our coupling made it some of the best sex we'd had together.

"What kind of martial arts training do you have?" I asked after we lay in bed a while.

"Capoeira, Manegra, Kickboxing, Jujitsu, Wing Chun, Silambam, Kendo, Muay Lao, and good ol' Karate," she answered. I was familiar with only a few of those styles.

"When do you have time to train? If you're not at your office or the restaurant, you're home with me. I haven't even seen you work out in quite some time."

"I do some stretches every day, and we both work out multiple times a day, lover," she teased. "Truthfully though, I do need to get back into my training regimen. Perhaps not as aggressively as I'm used to, but I can already tell I'm getting out of shape a bit."

"Doesn't seem like it to me," I replied, tracing her slender frame with my fingertips.

"Skinny does not equal in shape, Christian. I'm used to having super toned arms and a six-pack." Normally, I preferred my women slender and soft in all the right places. Not hard and muscled, but the idea of Ana with definition in her arms and a strong set of abs turned me on like no other. I liked that she was capable of taking care of herself in that way.

"We could train together," I suggested. "I have a great trainer, Claude Bastille. He knocks me on my ass more often than not."

"Claude? Wasn't he your physical therapist, too? I think Ethan sees him as well. Comes by a couple times a week. Nice guy. Apparently he's been free more often because one of his clients has a less vigorous training schedule now. Would that client be you?" she asked, poking me in the chest.

"Yeah, since you, I haven't been training nearly as much as I used to. Three days a week instead of five. And if you decide to surprise me for lunch on one of those three days, I don't train at all."

"Christian, don't let me make you fat," she joked. "Call him. I'd love to train together. He'd love my set up downstairs. I let him see it once, but Ethan knows how I feel about that room. So he never trained in there. But now, I'm okay with it. But watch out, Grey. I'll whoop your ass."

"You're on, Steele!"

I got on the phone the next morning to Bastille and informed him to meet Ana and myself at her home by six pm. She and I were in for one hell of a training regimen. I told him about her various expertises with martial arts and he said he knew some trainers who specialized in each of those arts. We decided that he would bring in a "guest" trainer one day every week that would help Ana hone her skills in each art and teach me the basics of them. I wanted to know what she knew, wanted to be able to do what she could do.

Once at home that night, Ana was already in her gym, wearing far too little clothing for my liking and stretching on a yoga mat. "Ana, what are you wearing?" I asked.

"What? Yoga pants and a sports bra… what's wrong?"

"You should put a shirt on!"

"Nonsense, Christian. I lose range of movement with the more clothing I wear. Bastille is a professional, and I'm sure he's used to seeing women in far less than this at his gym. Don't be such a caveman. I'm all yours and Bastille knows it. If for some reason he doesn't, you can bet that I'll knock him on his ass. Don't get jealous."

"Fine," I relented. Part of me wanted to see Bastille's ass on the floor because of something Ana did. Something told me I would find it incredibly sexy.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

* * *

Ana PoV

Bastille had me on my ass three times before I finally bested him. I had been out of practice. Since meeting Christian, my workout regimen took a deep dive in frequency. Granted, he kept me plenty in shape with our bedroom activities, it wasn't the same as the vigorous martial arts training I was used to. That was all about to change. Just the look on Christian's face as I sparred with Bastille was enough to make me want to keep working out all night. And then watching the two of them duke it out, I half wanted to tear Christian's clothes off and have him right there on the mat. Something told me though, that we'd both be far too exhausted at the end to even think about a romp in the sheets.

"Okay, that's enough," Bastille panted. "Ow, dammit Grey, Uncle!" I giggled as Bastille batted Christian away. "Now, I'd like to see what you two have got. You've worn me out. First time in a long time."

"Wanna take me on, loverboy?" I teased. I stood in front of him and gave him an "I dare you to challenge me" look.

"You know it!" he agreed. Wide grins spread across both our faces, and soon we found ourselves in a dance. Our steps countered each other's as we sized up the other's capabilities, strengths and weaknesses. I knew he was far more dominantly right handed, and used that arm to project the majority of his strength. I was more ambidextrous and could attack equally well from either side.

But what he lacked in left side strength and agility, he gained in his ability to be quick on his feet. I was quick too, quick enough at least. Christian managed to knock me off my feet with a low spinning kick that hit my ankles. I recovered quickly and rolled over my shoulder to get back on my feet. He came at me again with the same tactic, so I was able to predict his movements and jump his leg like a skip-it and then knock him over by sending my knee into his chest. With sparring, we had to be gentler than if we were actually fighting someone, but still, a knee to the chest, even lightly can take the wind out of someone.

I gave him a second to catch his breath before he hopped up on his feet again. "Well played Miss Steele," he stated.

"I'm just getting warmed up, Mister Grey," I taunted back. We sparred back and forth for a good twenty minutes, neither of us gaining any ground against the other. Either he was holding back, or we were well matched. Judging by the look of exhaustion on his face and the looks of determination he kept shooting me, he wasn't holding back at all.

"Alright, you two," Bastille called out. Christian and I were locked on the floor with my legs wrapped around his neck, and his around mine. Neither of us were tapping out, and soon we'd both be passing out of lack of oxygen. "Give it a rest, you tied!" the trainer yelled. We didn't budge. "Oh for the love of god. On my count of three, let go of each other." I could tell he was rolling his eyes at us, but I didn't care. "One… two… three…" I could feel Christian's grip loosening around my neck, so I did the same and soon we were apart, gasping for air on the mat.

"I'm done," he croaked. "Completely exhausted."

"Ditto," I managed to whisper.

"I'll leave you two to it then. Tomorrow, no sparring, just cardio and strength training, alright? You have more than enough adequate equipment for that here, and I know you both know how to use it all. Do you need me for that?" Claude asked.

I shook my head at him, assuming Christian was doing the same. "Alright then, I'm out. Ana, I'm told you have a hot tub somewhere in the house. I suggest you both go for a nice long soak and then rub yourselves down with arnica cream. You'll have some bumps and bruises. I know I will." I giggled softly but groaned as soon as I realized how sore my abs already were. "Yeah, exactly what I thought. I'll check in tomorrow to see how you're both doing."

Christian and I laid there on the floor of my workout room for an indeterminable amount of time. "Tub?" he queried.

"Tub," I agreed.

Minutes later, we finally peeled ourselves off the floor and quite literally crawled up the stairs to our bedroom. I shed my clothes as I crept across the floor, reached up to open the balcony door and then slithered along the deck, up the wooden steps and into the hot tub head first. When I resurfaced, Christian was sliding in as well. We didn't say anything, just sat on opposite corners and held our heads above the water by hanging them over the edge. "Why did we do that?" he asked.

"I have no idea," I breathed. "I think we just learned how stubborn and relentless we can both truly be."

"Yeah, I mean I already knew this, but you really are a force to be reckoned with," he told me.

"So are you, dear," I replied. "Neither of us were gaining any ground. And I know I wasn't holding back at all."

"Neither was I. And might I add, watching you fight with Bastille was such a turn-on, and I wanted you so badly, but now I'm wrecked. There's no way I have enough energy to show you how sexy I found it."

"Likewise," I agreed. "I don't even know how we're going to accomplish a bout of cardio and lifting tomorrow. My body is going to remain soup for the rest of the night."

Eventually, we dragged our pruny selves out of the tub and into the bathroom to apply arnica cream to each other. Then with whatever miniscule amounts of strength we had left, we poured ourselves into the bed. Christian lazily draped one arm over the small of my back and we were both passed out within minutes.

In the morning, I realized neither of us had set any alarms as our phones began going off nonstop. "Dammit," I heard Christian mutter. He reached over me, groaning in pain as he did so and answered my phone. "She's not coming in today. She's not well," he stated. Then his phone began ringing and he said the same thing, only adding a crude "just deal with it," to the end.

I groaned as he gathered me in his arms. Not because it hurt for him to touch me but because I was so comfortable where I was. "I just need to hold you, baby," he whispered. "Part of last night felt like a real fight for me. Like we were taking our frustrations with each other out on each other. Is that what it was?"

"Um, well, that wasn't my intention, but I can see how it may have turned into that… especially at the end," I replied.

"I love you Ana. Always, even when you make me worry or angry or upset; I always love you."

"I'll always love you too, Christian. Even when you get in the way of me getting things taken care of, particularly when they involve weapons. You'll always be my one and only."

"Hungry for breakfast?" he asked. I nodded into his chest. "I'll call Mrs. Jones and have her bring something up. I've not enough strength to go down the stairs right now."

"Agreed. Breakfast in bed sounds delectable." I half fell back asleep while he made the call, but a few minutes later, Mrs. Jones knocked tentatively before peeking in.

"Everybody decent?" she asked.

"Yes, Gail," Christian replied. "We're just too sore after our work out last night to get up and come to the kitchen."

"Yes, that happens sometimes," Gail replied, understanding in her eyes. She padded over and placed a tray on our bed that had two silver platters with covers on them. "I'll be right back with the coffee and juice. Didn't have enough space on the tray for that."

We uncovered the plates and were rewarded with the delectable smells of pancakes, bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and grits. All of my favorite breakfast foods. "This smells amazing," Christian mused.

"Agreed." In the middle of the tray was a little caddy that held saucers of butter, syrup, peanut butter and applesauce. The woman knew how I liked my pancakes. Bless her. "I have a random question for you," I said to Christian.

"Fire away, hot cakes," he teased.

"Is there a reason that no one calls you Chris? I mean, not even Elliot or your parents. No one does. Is it just that you prefer your full name?"

"I'm not sure, no one has. I guess there's no reason. Why, do you want to start calling me Chris?"

"Not necessarily, I was just thinking that since everyone calls me Ana, as it's short for Anastasia, I just wondered why you don't have a shortened name."

He shrugged. "No reason. Feel free to call me Chris though, if you want, babe. I kinda like it coming out of your delectable mouth." He speared a bite of pancake on his fork and held it out for me. I leaned over and took it, moaning appreciatively as the flavors of the butter, syrup and buttermilk cake melded over my tongue.

At that moment, Gail reappeared with a two mugs of steaming coffee, all the fixin's, and two glasses of orange juice in tow. "Gail, you're fired," I told her, deadpan.

"I'm… what?" Christian gaped at me as if I just told him the world was ending.

"I'm firing you from this job as I'm going to need you to be head chef at my next restaurant. I doubt you can do both. These eggs are perfection, and the pancakes are out of this world. You need to stop all this housekeeping nonsense and become a head chef."

"Oh, I thought you were serious," Christian said. He visibly relaxed. "You're definitely not fired, Gail. Ana isn't my wife yet anyway, so she hasn't the authority." Gail giggled as she set down the tray of beverages on my night stand and thanked me for my kind offer.

"Maybe one day," she mused as she stepped out of the room.

"Maybe one day can be today, Gail. Just think about it."

"You're opening a new restaurant today?" Christian asked, confused.

"Well, no. I simply meant that she shouldn't live her life saying 'maybe one day' to everything she wants to do. If she wants to make it happen, she can simply just do it. Especially when she has people like you and me in her corner, and not to mention Taylor. We'd all support her in any way we can."

* * *

Christian PoV

"Taylor told me he wants to ask her to marry him," I whispered to Ana.

"Really? Oh that's wonderful! When is he planning to do it?"

"He wasn't sure yet. But he asked me as if I have any actual say in whether or not he marries the woman. As his boss, I can tell him when to take his vacations, but I can't tell him who he can marry, even if the other party is also an employee of mine."

"What did you tell him?" she asked.

"Basically just that," I replied. "He's free to make his own choices, and that I was happy for him, and knew Gail would be thrilled. I offered to let him use any of my properties for the ceremony, reception or honeymoon. I think they'll go to Aspen for that."

"Or I have a place in Santorini," she offered.

" _Santorini_? Really? Well, no offense to Taylor, but we'll take that one for our own wedding, thank you very much." She rolled her eyes and giggled at me, but didn't respond. I knew it was far too soon to be seriously talking about getting married, but it was the only thing I could ever think of. That and being buried deep inside her. My very favorite place to be.

After eating and a shower, and perhaps another long soak in the tub, I'd be up for a romp. I hoped she would be as well. I dug into my meal with fervor, downing each item like it was my first meal in days. All but the grits; I'd never had grits, but it looked like a bowl of mashed potatoes gone horribly wrong. Ana, however, was eating hers like they were the greatest thing since sliced bread. She had a rather refined palate, so I decided to go ahead and give them a try.

One spoonful and I spat them back out. "Blech, how can you stand that?"

"Did you put butter and sugar on it?" she asked, eying my dish. At my blank expression, she reached over, poured a bit of sugar on top of the mush and mixed in two pads of butter. "There, now try it again." I eyed her skeptically before she rolled her eyes, picked up the spoon and half-shoved it into my mouth. Oh that tasted much better. I downed the rest of the dish of grits, and pushed the now empty tray away from us.

She handed me a cup of coffee, sweetened to perfection, just the way I liked it. "You pay very close attention to how I like my coffee," I told her.

"Well, you're kind of OCD about it," she replied. "Exactly a teaspoon of stevia crystals, one ounce of half and half, one ounce of French Vanilla creamer, stir stick, no spoon. Kind of predictable, dear."

We spent the rest of the morning in bed, checking our emails and responding to the various calls and texts we received since waking. Nothing was going to explode at GEH, SD, or at Mammaw's without us. Finally, we got up and headed into the shower, where Ana surprised the hell out of me by getting on her knees and "fucking me with her mouth," as she put it. It was sexy as hell.

Once I came, I pulled out of her mouth, lifted her up and pressed her against the shower wall, just high enough for me to ravage her sex with my mouth. "Oh god, Chris! How do you have the strength to lift me like this?" she panted.

"You'd be surprised what one can do when they're turned on," I replied, pulling away slightly.

"Less talking, more licking," she commanded.

"Yes ma'am."

Ana came hard and all over my face. It was glorious. Good thing we were in the shower and able to rinse of the evidence of our little tryst. However, making Ana come made me hard again and I was ready for round two. Ana sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as she eyed my erect manhood. And rather than letting me have her in the shower again, she turned off the water, dried off meticulously and sauntered out of the room. _She never leaves me hangin' like that. What gives?_ I thought.

I grabbed a towel, dried off quickly and followed after her, still hard as a rock. What I saw in the bedroom would have made me insta-hard if I wasn't already. As a result, it made me impossibly more turned on. She was standing at the foot of the bed, with her arms tied to the sheer drapes that hung down from the canopy. Somehow she'd managed to wrap her wrists on either side of them and restrain herself. She was facing away from me, leaning towards the bed, bent down, and had her ass on display. "Come and get it, baby," she whispered, seductively. I was across the room and inside her to the hilt within the next three seconds. "FUCK!" she roared.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you look trussed up like this?" I asked, whispering into her hair.

"Yes, that's why I did it," she replied. "I want you to take me, Chris. Really take me. Like the day when the paps were here."

"You want it rough, hard, and fast?" I asked.

"Fuck yes, Chris. Please, fuck me as hard as you can," she begged.

"Your wish is my command," I replied. I planted my feet behind hers, got a good grip on her hips and began ramming into her with all my power. Her screams of ecstasy got louder and louder the more I pounded on. I could feel her muscles tighten around me, signaling her impeding release. Thank god, my own wasn't far behind.

We came together, Ana milking my dick for all the cum in the world. "Jesus, fuck, Ana!" I yelled, spilling into her. She was babbling incoherently, possibly praying to God in Tongues for all I knew. As soon as we came down from our mountain top, I released her from the draperies and rubbed her skin soothingly. We still had the arnica cream handy, so I rubbed a generous amount all over her delectable body. I had to concentrate on it being for her, and not a means to get myself hard again. After our workout, the shower fun, and that incredible sex, neither of us had the energy for round three. Yet.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

* * *

 _? PoV_

 _He's all over the news now. All the time. I know he hates that. What is this crazy woman doing to him? Getting him to finance the opening of a new restaurant? Selling his penthouse apartment? He loves Escala. But he looks happy. She makes him happy. Why couldn't I do that? What does she have that I don't? It's time to pay Miss Steele a little visit and find out what's going on._

 _"_ _Steele Designs, Anita speaking. How may I help you?"_

 _"_ _Yes, hello. I'm calling to hopefully make an appointment with Anastasia Steele. I'm a prospective new client."_

 _"_ _Oh excellent, and would this be a new design or a remodel?" the overly friendly receptionist asks._

 _"_ _Um, remodel," I reply… I'm not looking to remodel anything. I don't even have my own place._

 _"_ _And is it a business or a residence?" she continues. Jeez, what is with the twenty questions?_

 _"_ _Residence," I answer._

 _"_ _Great, and your name please?"_

 _"_ _Lucy West," I state, using the pseudonym I created for this very purpose. I even have official documents with that name on them._

 _"_ _Okay, and when can you come in? Miss Steele had a cancellation this morning at nine am. Otherwise, I'll have to put you out at least three weeks." I check my watch, just after seven. I can make that. No time like the present to get shit done._

 _Jeez. Apparently she's very popular. "Um, today at nine a.m. will do. Thank you."_

 _"_ _Perfect, please bring along blueprints of your current residence, photos of the space you're planning to remodel and any ideas you've had thus far regarding the redesign." Crap. I don't have any of that._

 _"_ _Um, yes of course, I'll gather those things now." I hang up the phone and bolt down the stairs to get ready. Well, as ready as I can; I don't have much these days, no thanks to him…_

* * *

Ana PoV

I stretched my body, groaning at the aches and pains I felt all over the place. Particularly _down there_. I'd been sore before with Christian, but never like this. He really gave me everything he had to give last night. I'd need at least a day to recover but I doubted Christian would be able to keep his hands off of me for that long. I'd try to satisfy him with fellatio, but that always led to his need to be inside me. I was never down there for more than a few minutes most of the time before he was pulling me off my knees, dragging me up his body and settling himself inside me. I could count on one hand how many times I'd actually made him come with only my mouth. He always wanted more.

Half the time he'd pull me to my feet by my hair or pull out of my mouth and grab my shoulders to toss me on the bed. Rarely, he'd simply beg me to let him be inside me. I never denied him of course, but still it was nice once in a while to feel the power I had with just my mouth.

As I tested all my limbs, I could hear Christian stirring next to me. He reached over and tried to pull me into his embrace. _Oh no. Not today, Mister_. I wriggled my way out of his arms and kept him at bay.

"No more random days off, Christian," I told him. "Apparently unlike you, I have a company to run. And a restaurant." With that, my cell phone pinged and I turned, leaning over Christian to find out whom texted me. Christian tried to wrap me up again, but I pinned one of his arms down with my own. "Nice try buster, but no. Not gonna happen." I grabbed my phone, unlocking once I saw I had a new message from Anita. She never texted me unless it was something urgent or important, usually just left a voicemail.

 **Sorry for the late notice, a 9am appointment was scheduled with a new client, Lucy West. - Anita**

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I slid out of bed and scurried into the shower. I even locked the bathroom door as I didn't have time for his sexual antics that morning. The text had come in just before eight, and it was now just after that hour. I had to rush to get to work before nine.

I heard him jiggle the handle a few times. And then the knocking began. "Ana?" he called out. "Why is the door locked?"

"So you don't barge in here and have your way with me. I'm trying to shower." I could feel his crestfallen expression through the door.

"But… why?" he asked as if I'd just told him his favorite cat just died, which would be quite a feat considering he hadn't a cat. No pets for that matter, and neither did I. _Hmm, we might need to remedy that_ , I thought. A puppy. A puppy would be wonderful. Plus, if I were to really turn over the reins of Steele Designs to my siblings and merge with Grey Construction, I would have a lot more time to spend with a puppy.

"Not this morning, Grey," I replied, realizing I hadn't answered his question. "You can have me all you want this evening after we've both worked. But today, I have just enough time to get ready, have a quick breakfast and get to the office for my nine o'clock appointment."

"But you told me your nine a.m. was canceled," he complained.

"Yes, it was, and then Anita filled it. You can see the message on my phone. I'm sorry Christian, but it's not happening this morning." I didn't think he'd actually look at my phone to ensure I was telling the truth. I'd not lied to him yet, and I wasn't about to start. I just hoped he knew that.

"Fine," he relented. I knew I was going to hear it later, but I just didn't have the time for him in the morning.

Once I was showered and dressed, Christian was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't changed yet, so he must have had a later morning than I did. Lucky bastard. As I entered the kitchen, Mrs. Jones had a light breakfast of granola with yogurt and a glass of juice ready for me. She kind of became a staple at my house since Christian moved in. Even though she and Taylor were living at Escala, she managed to be here rather often. It made no sense for her to be paid to clean an already impeccable penthouse all the time, so she inserted herself into my kitchen. At first, I was worried that she and Maria would be at odds, but Mrs. Jones kept to the kitchen and let Maria be the master of the rest of the house.

The granola, yogurt and juice were all in to-go containers, so I could eat on my way to the office. "You're a goddess, Gail. Thank you," I said as I grabbed up the items and dashed out the door, kissing Christian lightly on my way. He'd been at the breakfast bar sulking over a pile of scrambled eggs, still in his pajamas. Yep later morning than me, as I had presumed.

Reynolds was already in the car and waiting for me. Anita likely had called or texted him as well. I downed my granola and yogurt in record time and chugged the juice without spilling even one drop on my suit. I'd chosen a simple dark gray pinstripe pantsuit with a silver camisole underneath. Black suede pumps and a black rose brooch finished my ensemble. Never one for much make up, I simply brushed on some mascara, and left it at that, while twisting my long locks into a tight bun.

I ran into the building, not even waiting for Reynolds to come to a complete stop, hurried to the elevator bank, punched in my private code that sent me right to the top floor without stopping, and strolled into my office, no one the wiser. During the few seconds it took to get to my floor, I caught my breath smoothed down any fly-aways in my hair and checked my face in the mirror. Perfect. Not bad for having less than half an hour to get ready.

Anita followed in after me, apologizing profusely for the late notice. "It's quite alright, Anita. I know you gave me as much notice as possible." Glancing at the clock, I saw I still had five minutes before Ms. West was to arrive. I calmed myself down, ordered a pot of coffee and some pastries to offer my prospective client, and took a deep breath, centering myself, and readying myself for the day ahead.

Right at nine a.m., Anita rang through that Ms. West had arrived. "Please show her in," I told her. Anita opened the door, and in walked a mirror image of myself. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I had a twin. Her hair was the same shade as mine, only dull and drab, as if she hadn't seen the sun or a good stylist in some time. Bluish gray eyes that could once have been bright like my own, but the fire was out of them. Something horrible happened to this woman. She was dressed in jeans that looked like they hadn't been washed in a few weeks, and a baggy t-shirt that may or may not have had vomit on it. I couldn't tell for sure as I stopped breathing the moment she walked in, having seen Anita holding her nose as she closed the door.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Ms. Steele," she said, a smug smirk on her face. I knew immediately that this woman had no interest in a remodel. She was here for me. Or rather, here for Christian. I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this frail, broken woman before me was one of Christian's ex-subs.

"Likewise, Ms. West. What can I do for you?" I asked. As I spoke, I sent an instant message to Anita telling her to call Christian and get him here as soon as possible, with security. The woman seemed harmless enough, but I didn't want to take any chances. She wasn't carrying anything, not even a purse, let alone blueprints or other remodel documents that I know Anita would have requested. "Can I offer you a beverage? Coffee, tea, water? Or how about a pastry? Seattle's finest," I offered. She eyed the plate of Danishes and selected a raspberry filled one.

"Master never let me eat such things," she said quietly. Master? Is that what she called him? She nibbled along the edge of the pastry.

"By 'Master,' you mean Christian, don't you?" I guessed.

"I'm not supposed to talk about him," she said, realizing she'd said too much. "He made me sign an NDA." I wonder if she knew she had already broken the NDA simply by telling me she'd signed one. "What makes you different?" she asked.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied, which wasn't entirely true. I knew exactly how I was different. I wasn't submissive.

"Master's world now revolves around you," she stated. "He helped you open your restaurant; he moved out of his beloved penthouse to live with you, he's been seen publicly with you. You're different. Yet you and I look so much alike. He… he lets you touch him."

"Well, I think we both know he has a very specific type," I said with a smirk. She gave a knowing smile in return. I wondered briefly if she knew the true reason why Christian liked petite and pale brunettes. Lucy could be pretty if she cared a little. Something happened to make her stop taking care of herself, and she was in _bad_ need of a shower. "But I'm not his submissive, Lucy. I haven't a submissive bone in my body. He and I are more alike than you might realize."

"You can touch him," she repeated as if she hadn't even heard me. "I saw pictures on the internet of you two at the opening of Mammaw's. Your hand was on his chest. Master never lets us touch him, especially not his chest."

"Christian isn't my Dom, Lucy," I explained. "I'm not his sub. We're together. We're in a relationship. He's my boyfriend and I'm his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" she asked, trying out the word as if it were from a foreign language.

"Seems weird doesn't it?" I replied, laughing. She joined in laughter with me and all too soon, her laughter took on almost a maniacal quality. Where in the hell was security? Just when she started to go completely bonkers with laughter, the door opened. "Ah, here he is now."

* * *

Christian PoV

I couldn't believe Ana had denied me in the morning. She had never done that before. Granted, we wore each other out the prior day, and with good reason. Was she sore? In pain? If so, she needed to tell me. I would take care of her. Shutting me out and giving me some bull-shit excuse about having a meeting at nine o'clock was only going to make me mad.

I had yet to lose my temper with Ana, she hadn't fully seen how angry I could really get, and I wanted to delay that for as long as possible. Sure, she told me she loved me, and I believed her and loved her with all my heart, but some things are just unforgivable, and my nasty temper could be one of them.

She kissed me lightly goodbye, and though it was just a chaste kiss, I could still feel all the love she had for me. She loved me more than anything, for reasons I would likely never understand. Though I loved her more than my own life, so perhaps she loved me as much. Maybe I was never meant to understand why she felt the way she did. Maybe I just need to trust and believe in that love. Love never dies, they say.

Taylor drove me to the office and briefed me on the goings on from the day before on the way. Ros was upset that I randomly called in sick, but she made do without me. Nothing catastrophic happened, and truthfully, I could have stayed home another day if I really wanted. Not without Ana though. She and I were both addicted to our jobs. Even though we could both retire quite easily right at that moment, neither of us would be of any use without our jobs to go to.

Sure, we'd have each other, and that would be wonderful for a while. Eventually, I'd resent my decision to retire, and she hers. We needed to work, thrived on it. As appealing an idea it is to spend the rest of my life in bed with my Anastasia, it was not a reality that I would truly ever be able to handle.

"Sir," Taylor called out, pulling me from my thoughts. "I have Anita Baum, Ms. Steele's PA on the phone. She's asked that we come to her office stat, with security."

"What? Why?" I waited a moment while he asked her the question.

"She's not sure; she just told me that Ms. Steele sent her an instant message, requesting your presence and that of security. And that Ms. Steele has a new client in her office, by the name of Lucy West."

Lucy West, Lucy West… I ran the name through my head over and over trying to figure out whom in the hell this individual was and why she triggered that response from my angel. Ana was so capable of taking care of herself, as I'd learned first-hand, so why did she need me now and with security?!

Taylor couldn't drive fast enough. While he was driving at least twice the posted speed limit, it wasn't fast enough. Superman couldn't get me there fast enough. I raced out of the car before Taylor stopped it, ran to the elevator, cursing myself that I didn't know Ana's private code. I couldn't be held responsible for the lives of anyone that dared call for the elevator while I was on it.

The elevator did stop once, but only for several security guards to jump on. I could hardly berate them for delaying me, when we all had a common goal. "Mr. Grey," Reynolds greeted, nodding once at me. I nodded back, knowing the need for pleasantries was out the window the moment that Ana called for help.

We rode the rest of the way up in silence. As soon as the door pinged, I was poised and ready to spring through. Once in the waiting area, Anita stood up and walked over to brief us on any updates.

"The client's name is Lucy West," Anita repeated. "I just made the appointment this morning, she seemed adamant about meeting Ana and extremely excited that we had a cancellation today. I advised her, like all our new clients to bring blueprints and any remodeling paperwork she has. She came here with nothing but the clothes on her back. Then, not a minute after she entered the room, Ana messaged me asking for you, Mr. Grey, and for Security." With that we heard the ping of the instant messenger again.

"She says to let only Christian in for now," Anita relayed.

I took a deep breath and headed for the door. Opening it as silently as I could, I paused once it was open, taking in the sight before me.

There was Ana, sitting at her desk, while another woman was sitting in one of the chairs. "Ah, here he is now," she said, smiling brightly at me. The woman turned in her seat, and froze me in my tracks.

"Leila?"

The laughter ceased immediately and Leila took on the contrite submissive expression, focusing on my shoes rather than on my face.

"Ah, so you know each other. I figured as much," Ana said. "Help!" she mouthed, as Leila's face was turned away. I turned back and motioned for the security guards to come in. Taylor and Reynolds took Leila out of Ana's office by the arms and brought her to a conference room where I was going to have more than a few words with her. After having a few with Ana.

"What the hell is going on? You said your client's name was Lucy West."

"That's the name she gave Anita," Ana defended. "I didn't know her name was apparently Leila until you blurted it out just a minute ago. I've worked it out that she's one of your ex-subs. She wants to know why I'm different. When I look 'the same' as her, but get to touch you and be seen with you, and all the things that are part of our relationship. Tell me Christian; is she in love with you?"

"I'd like to say no," I replied. "But she wanted more."

"More what?"

"I ended our contract because she wanted a relationship with me. She wanted what you and I have, or some modicum of that. Before you all I ever wanted from a woman was sex and total control. I got that out of these women. I'd dote upon them gifts and cars and things and in return they would allow me to have my way with them six ways to Sunday in my playroom. They were all contracts. Ana, we've talked about this. You said you understood."

"I did… I mean I do. I just never thought I'd be bombarded by one of them in my own office. Kind of caught me off guard, dearie."

"Sir, you need to come into the conference room," Taylor said, popping the door open. "Ms. Baum, please call an ambulance."

"An ambulance?" I asked.

"She found a letter opener," Taylor explained. "She just slit her wrists."

"Oh my God!" Ana and I said in unison. We both rushed out of her office and across the foyer into the conference room. Sure enough, Leila was slumped in one of the chairs, covered in her own blood and surrounded by a growing puddle of it. Two security guards were trying to hold her veins closed, but she'd done it the right way. Meaning, she'd cut along her artery, rather than across it. She was bleeding out before our very eyes.

* * *

Yes, it's another Cliffie. But worry not... the next chapter will be uploaded shortly. Thank you for reading and reviewing!


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

* * *

Christian PoV

"No, not like this," Ana cried out, rushing over to the bleeding woman. She grabbed her arms from the guards' hands and dug her own fingers into Leila's arms to stop the bleeding. Soon the flow slowed and sure enough the bleeding stopped altogether, with Ana's thumbs pressing directly on the arteries.

"How did you know to do that?" one guard asked.

"My mother killed herself this same way," Ana replied in a clipped tone. "I learned how to stop the bleeding in this situation so I would never have to see that again. How far out is the ambulance?" she asked.

"Coming down the street now," Anita answered. "I've given them the code to get directly to this floor."

"Good thinking," Ana replied. "Hang on Lucy Leila. You're not dying in my conference room. Not today." Leila was still as a statue, but breathing very shallowly. Tears began streaming out of Ana's eyes and I knew she was reliving her mother's death.

"Angel?" I called out cautiously.

"I'm fine Christian, I'm just trying to concentrate," she assured me. Though I was anything but assured. "No, you can't help. I'm just waiting until they can put a tourniquet on her and stop the bleeding that way." Somehow she knew exactly what I was going to say before I even said it. I knew then that I was dealing with CEO Ana. A side of her I hadn't seen since Hyde-Gate. She was taking charge of the situation, totally in control of it. I could see then that she had earned this title and did her job well. Even now when she was handling a situation that had nothing to do with interior design or architecture, she was the boss, and we were all following her lead.

"How did she get a letter opener?" Reynolds asked. "This room was empty save for the chairs and table."

"She must have had it on her," I suggested. "Tucked in her sock or up her sleeve maybe."

"Probably," Ana agreed. "I know it wasn't in this room. I don't even own a letter opener, so she certainly didn't get it from anywhere near here."

Moments later, the EMTs and police arrived. I gave as much info as I could to the officer while the EMTs worked on getting Ana's fingers out of Leila's arms. "Good thinking on stopping the bleeding in this way," one EMT commented. I noticed he was also ogling Ana. It bothered me that he was looking at her that way, but I had to quell my jealousy. Ana wouldn't like it for one thing, and for another, I had no reason to be jealous. She was mine. I was hers. It was just as simple as that. No need for me to bring up the green-eyed monster for no reason.

Finally Ana was free and was frantically washing the blood off by squirting half a bottle of sanitizing gel on her hands. "Not enough," she commented to herself. She strode out of the room, past the officer who was calling her name and into her office. I followed, the officer close behind me and saw just as she went into the bathroom.

"I need to speak with her," the officer said.

"I figured as much," I said, not bothering to hide my condescension. "This is after all her building, her company, her office, and it was her hands keeping that woman alive. I'm not at all surprised that you have a question or two."

"Mr. Grey, that tone is hardly necessary," she replied.

"Then don't point out the fucking obvious," I retorted, walking towards the bathroom to make sure my Angel was alright. "Ana? Can I help you?"

"I'm just trying to get the blood from under my fingernails. I wish I had a nail brush in here," she said. I couldn't help her there.

"There's a rookie out here who wants to speak with you," I told her.

"Mr. Grey! I've been on the force for six years!" the officer complained.

"Could have fooled me," I replied. Ana chuckled quietly at that. After a few more moments, she emerged from the bathroom, ready to answer questions. I could tell that she still felt like she was covered in blood and that I would have to go to great lengths to prevent her from bathing in bleach later on.

"What do you need from me?" Ana asked the officer, sounding exasperated.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"That woman made a last minute appointment with my assistant, Anita, under the name of Lucy West. I arrived to the office minutes before she did. She came in and I immediately knew she wasn't here as a prospective client, but to see me personally."

"And how did you know that?" Seriously, how did this cop get out of the academy?

"You don't show up for an appointment at Steele Designs to meet me, Anastasia Steele CEO, wearing torn, dirty jeans, a ragged shirt, and not having bathed for what smelled like weeks," Ana retorted. Score one point for Ana.

"And why did she come here?"

"She's an ex of Christian's," Ana answered. I was glad she didn't add the word "sub" onto "ex."

The officer glanced at me accusatorily. "Are you not here to ask _me_ questions?" Ana barked, pulling the officer's glare back to her. "Perhaps you should keep your focus on me instead of him."

"Well, it's just that I know who he is," the officer replied, suddenly sheepish. "I know the kind of businessman he is and I'm wondering what he did to her to cause her to look like that and to attempt to take her own life." My blood boiled, and from the looks of it, so did Ana's. _God help you, officer_ , I thought.

"That's it. We're done here," Ana snapped. "If you're going to come into _my_ office, and accuse _my_ boyfriend of doing something to cause that poor confused woman to attempt suicide then you can leave. This _is_ private property and I reserve that right. He did nothing of the sort. They haven't been together in a long time, and from what I gathered, she'd moved on. So perhaps you should be looking in to _her_ history before you go pointing fingers at the people in this room. _She_ came to _me_. I didn't ask her to come. I didn't even know who she was until he walked in and addressed her as Leila. She was already in hysterics before he arrived, laughing in a crazy-person way, and the moment we left her alone, she did this. I still have no idea why she was here, nor what she wanted."

"Um, okay," the officer replied. Neither Ana nor I noticed right away, but Ana had backed the poor woman right into the door. The officer was cornered by a very angry Anastasia Steele, CEO extraordinaire staring her down in a pair of six inch stilettos. I don't think I ever wanted to fuck her as badly as I did in that moment. The idiot officer and her cohorts needed to get out as fast as fucking possible. "Please remain in the area for questioning."

"Oh, no, I thought I'd quickly hop on a plane to Japan for no reason. Are you serious? We both have companies to run and I just opened a restaurant. Where the hell would I go? Get the fuck out, now." She threw open the door and practically pushed the cop out. The officer had a quick word with her partner and within a minute they were safely in the elevator away from Ana's murderous glare. I think if they were going to accuse anyone of harming Leila, it'd be Ana, not me. Though I hoped they'd think twice before doing that. I feared that Ana would rain her wrath upon the entire law enforcement department in all of Washington.

Once the officers, EMTs and Leila were all gone, Ana was able to resume her day. She slid right back into her routine as if the interruption hadn't happened at all. She let me stay in on all her meetings, telling each client that I was simply job-shadowing. Those that recognized me giggled knowingly. Unfortunately for me, her next client was waiting in the lobby and I had to quell my raging hard-on. But she would get it later. And hard.

* * *

Ana PoV

I could tell that Christian was turned on by my exchange with the troglodyte cop. Unfortunately, I had a full docket, and the morning snafu with Leila didn't help matters. The next client after the nine a.m. slot that Leila commandeered left, claiming she didn't want to work with a design firm that was frequented by crazy people. I had to roll my eyes at that. Her statement alone told me she'd be one of those impossible-to-please clients, and I was glad to be rid of her. We had a solid client base, new ones weren't as necessary as they once were.

Now I mostly worked by referral only. We didn't even have to advertise but for the few web ads that we pay for on Facebook, Twitter and a few other big social media sites. That and our referral program gets more clients than we could ever need. This potential merge with Grey Construction could bring in even more. In fact, my next meeting was with Grey Construction's PR department and Elliot's COO. Apparently, he liked the hands on work more than the office work, so he hired a guy to be his COO while he could still do all the hard labor at as many of the construction sites he could.

Kate and Ethan attended the meeting as well, since while they posed as a designer and architect, they still had a controlling interest in the company and as such were required to be part of the meeting that would affect the structure of the company.

Two hours into it, we decided to rebrand both companies as one, giving it a completely new name. That way, neither company would appear to be the bigger of the two halves. I decided to discuss the possible name changes with the families so we could all come up to a conclusion together.

I escorted the reps from Grey Construction to the elevator and when it opened, several officers emerged, one of which being Officer West from when Mrs. Lincoln was here. I thanked Grey construction for the meeting and tried to send them down with my siblings, but the officer said Kate and Ethan needed to stay.

Leading the officers and my siblings into the conference room, I motioned for Anita to call Christian back, as he'd planned to go to lunch with Elliot. "I wouldn't," Officer West said, eyeing me suspiciously. "I need to speak with you and your siblings alone, without the influence of Mr. Grey."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but nodded at Anita to not call him just yet. On my way into the room, having entered last, I gave Anita a signal, telling her to wait 10 minutes and still call him and our lawyers. She was very good at reading my signals and understood perfectly. I caught her almost imperceptible nod as I closed the door. "What's going on, West?" I asked. "Are you aware that the woman that was here this morning used your last name?"

"Yes, my wife's name is Lucy," he answered. "Leila Williams is one of her friends... we're hoping she makes a speedy recovery and can divulge more information as to why she came here. When the officers who were here earlier reported what happened, I figured it warranted some further investigation, Miss Steele."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I replied, "What further investigation?"

"Well, it's fairly obvious that since Mr. Grey entered into your life, some rather disturbing things have happened. First Jack Hyde tries to turn Seattle into a crater, and we find out he's Mr. Grey's biological father." My siblings gasped at that news… it wasn't something that I'd told them, and apparently neither had Christian. "Then the woman, Elena Lincoln comes in here guns blazing, and we find out she and Christian…" I glared at him, daring him to continue that statement. "Well, we find out that they knew each other and then she turns out to be your grandmother."

I bristled at those words. This cop was cruisin' for a bruisin' and I wasn't above dishing out those bruises. "Would you like to make your point before I throw you out of my building?"

"I'd watch your words if I were you…" one of the nameless officers stated. I looked at her, recognizing her from earlier that day. She was the one that eyed Christian as though he was the number one suspect in a crime that wasn't even committed.

"Officer Downey, that's enough," West said. Smart move. "And today, one of Mr. Grey's former associates shows up here and then tries to kill herself after meeting with you. Care to explain how all that fits together? How did you and Mr. Grey meet, anyway? It seems rather suspicious that all of these things started happening after you two became an item. You let this mysterious man into your life, and he brings destruction down around you. I think there's something to all this. There's more to Christian Grey than meets the eye."

I spared a glance at my siblings who hadn't been told about any of those things. At least, not what they didn't absolutely need to know. "First of all, thank you so much for laying my personal secrets out in the street. This was information that I hadn't divulged to my siblings just yet, and you had absolutely no right to do that. Secondly, you pompous ass, what has happened in this building is sheer coincidence. This is where I work, so naturally people are going to come here to find me when my home address isn't listed. And thirdly, yes, there is more to Christian Grey than meets the eye, like his monster cock, would you like me to describe that in detail as well?"

"You're very close to interfering with an officer of the law and that's—"

"Shut the fuck up," I said, cutting Downey off. "I swear to whatever god you pray to, I will throw you out that window if you speak again." Turning towards West again, I decided to give them the story.

"Christian and I met at a benefit that his parents put on every year. It was the first year I went. Jack Hyde, my rapist, was also there. He somehow managed to skip out on his parole meetings, get a fake ID, get a job at a gossip rag in Seattle, find the benefit and me… all without the brilliant Seattle Police Department even having a clue until he showed up here with enough explosives to put a hole in the fucking planet! He also was the man that got my mother addicted to drugs, left her, me, and my siblings for dead. The fact that he also happens to have lent his genetic material to make Christian is mere happenstance.

"Elena Lincoln had been a family friend to the Greys for a long time. She found out that I am her biological granddaughter and wanted to have a relationship with me. After I found out about her sordid past, I wanted nothing to do with it. And if you dare go into detail about _who_ and _what_ she is, so help me, I will slap you across the face." I raised my hand in warning.

"Leila Williams _is_ one of Christian's exes. She saw me in some photos online with him, noticed that I look a hell of a lot like her, and wondered what I had that _she_ didn't. You saw her," I said pointing at Downey. "She's not exactly all there. She figured out I'm the CEO of Steele Designs and came to see me. Yes all of these things were less than unpleasant, and they all happened under my roof, and they all involve Christian in one way or another, but the bottom line is, he's mine and I'm his, and between the two of us, we have enough resources to have every single one of your jobs. So don't fucking test me, West!"

"You're threatening an officer of the law?"

I shook my head. "It's not a threat, it's a promise. Christian and a team of lawyers will be here in seconds. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave before the lawyers serve you up several different lawsuits in a single blow."

"Lawsuits? You're going to sue me?"

"Seattle PD, you're damn right," I replied. "You cannot come into my place of business, on a piece of property that I own and start accusing people I love of being criminals. Besides, you know you don't have anything to go on; just a bunch of coincidental nonsense that not even you can make sense of because you're not part of this family. You have no fucking clue what Christian and I have been through before we found each other, and you have no right to know. And I'd bet that your superior has no clue about this little intervention you're here for."

West swallowed audibly at that last statement, and I knew I had him. "This is about Leila isn't it? Your wife isn't Lucy. You were with Leila. What her boyfriend? Husband? What? Oh, so you expected me to tell my life fucking story, but you won't even say one thing about why the fuck you're here? The woman is bat-shit crazy, West. She decided to slit her own wrists when she saw her ex with a new woman, using a weapon she brought herself. Simple as that. I can't help that she lost her marbles while screwing you."

With that, the door burst open with a fuming Christian Grey, followed by my lawyers, his Dad, and a few others that I hadn't met, so assumed were his lawyers. Officer West paled, upon seeing them and immediately ordered his subordinates out of the room, following behind them with his tail between his legs. "He's Leila's boyfriend," I told Christian. "Or something. I dunno. Either way, he abused his position on the force to stonewall his way in here and interrogate me."

"I got you, Angel," Christian assured me. "He won't be back. And his job is long gone. That's for sure." I smiled as I let him wrap me up in his arms. Something told me Officer West wasn't going to let this go.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

* * *

Ana PoV

I reveled in the feel of Christian's arms around me. I just wanted to go home and get lost in him, but there was still work to be done. And questions to be answered. The looks on my siblings' faces told me as much.

"Okay, so I have a question or ninety," Kate stated. "What the hell was that all about? Jack Hyde is your biological father, Christian? What did Elena do to you?"

He glared at me. "Oh, no, Mr. Grey. You can direct that death-stare at Officer West," I retorted, pointing at the closed door where West had just scurried out of. "He's the one that said it out loud. You know I would never."

"You're right, Ana. I'm sorry. Yes, Kate. Jack Hyde is my biological father. For all I know, he raped my mother and I'm the result. I have no idea. Ana has assured me that his genetic connection to me is merely happenstance and has little to do with who I am."

"Damn right," I agreed.

Kate nodded, too. "Yes, of course, it was just a shock is all. I guess our families are even more connected through the generations than we thought. Elena had a sordid past?"

"Yes, she hurt me as a child and has done the same to other children since. For me it was past the statute of limitations, but once I informed on her, they opened up an investigation. She has been abusing and molesting young boys for a long time," Christian told them. I remembered the reports we received as the police department conducted their search. The demon wench kept photos and even videos of her tormenting the young boys. Granted if they were grown men, it'd have been different, which is the platform she and her defense had been running, but no amount of consent from thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen year old boys was ever going to make what she did legal or remotely okay.

"Oh, Christian. I'm so sorry that happened to you," Kate said, her hand covering her heart as if to convey her empathy. "I can only imagine the horrors that you faced with her."

"What's worse is until recently, I thought she helped me. Now I see that all she did was manipulate me. Yes, it calmed me down, and I was able to re-focus on my goals, but in the end, I never stopped being angry at the world until Ana came into my life."

"And who was Leila?" Ethan asked.

I described that morning's events, leaving out the words Dom and sub and replacing them with girlfriend and boyfriend for Christian's benefit. "But I thought you'd never had a girlfriend before," Kate mentioned.

"I never brought a woman home to meet the family before, nor ever talked about any of my relationships with anyone. I can't help if they assumed I was celibate and/or gay. I was… a very private person, and I didn't want my relationships paraded about like a float. When Ana quite literally fell into my life, all of that changed," Christian answered.

"Okay, I guess all of that makes sense. Now Ana, how the hell did you say all that to that cop without even batting an eye? I already looked up to you, Steele, but dayum."

"I just handled it the way I would handle anyone trying to pull one over on me. The fact that he was a cop was irrelevant. I'm all for police when they protect and serve, but when they abuse their status and power like Officer West just did, I take issue with it. I know that Hyde paid a few cops back in North Carolina to turn a blind eye to what was going on in our apartment, so maybe that's soured my opinion of the boys in blue. Either way, he was out of line, had no real reason for coming here other than to find dirt on me or Christian to use on Leila's behalf. I hope the poor woman is alright of course, but what her boyfriend, or whatever he was, did was reprehensible.

"These are the reasons you're CEO," my brother Ethan mused. "There's no way I could have spoken to a police officer like that and gotten away with it. Go Sis!" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I agree," Kate said. "No way either of us could have handled that situation any better than you did." I smiled affectionately at them. I loved them both, but they were right. There were reasons I was CEO and not them. It had me wondering what I'd do if I did decide to leave Steele Designs and become a restaurateur.

Later, I was busy giving a summary of my morning to the lawyers when Christian said it was enough for the day. I couldn't agree with him more. What I thought was going to finally be a normal day with normal clients and meetings spiraled out of control into this horrid mess. "Why can't we ever just have a day? Just a normal day?"

"Because we're far from normal, love," Christian told me. We were making our way out of my office and towards the elevator. The police had long gone; Anita and Reynolds were doing damage control with the clients that were still in the building and rescheduling the rest of my appointments for the day. Christian was briefly on his BlackBerry, speaking with Andrea, his PA, and having all of his meetings rescheduled too. Sometimes it was nice to be the CEO.

I gave Anita and Reynolds a thankful wave and followed Christian out to the parking garage. I was too emotionally and mentally exhausted to even think about how to open the door to the car let alone get in it, buckle up, and drive. Thankfully, Christian opened the passenger door for me, helped me in, strapped me in and strode casually around to the driver's side.

"Where's your car?" I asked, gazing around the lot and not seeing any Saabs or Audis anywhere.

"Taylor drove me," he replied, "then he left when I told him I'd drive you home."

"I want to soak in my hot tub." He agreed wholeheartedly and we made our way to my house in companionable silence. The house was empty when we arrived. Kate and Ethan must have decided to stay at the office and get some work done.

We walked up the stairs to my room and quickly shed our clothing before venturing out to the hot tub. "How are you doing, Christian?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow at me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean with Leila today and what she did… I never did find out her real reason for coming. Did she want you to show up? Was that her plan all along? Or did she really come there just to size me up and scout what she thought was competition? And why on earth did she even have that letter opener with her, let alone use it to open her veins? It's a lot to process, and if I know you, you're finding ways to shoulder all the blame for it. So I ask again… how are you doing?"

He took a deep breath before responding. "I'm… okay… I don't think I would be if I didn't have you in my corner. Clearly Leila needs help. And, I intend to see to it that she gets it. During some of your meetings today, I was texting back and forth with Welch trying to find out what she's been up to lately.

"He found out that her husband committed suicide. She never even called the police, just left him hanging in the garage and ran away. Then she met Officer West through one of her old friends that was in the lifestyle. She didn't know, but he'd been blacklisted by the community for ignoring safe-words and breaking hard limits.

"I don't know if he did the same with her, but she was showing signs of having been broken. Way more than any sub ought to be. I think West might have preyed upon her grief and insecurities and tried turning her into a slave. She was squatting in an apartment owned by a couple that's gone on vacation for a few weeks. That's where the call came from when she spoke with Anita to schedule the appointment with you."

Once he was done explaining to me, I remained silent for a moment. He still hadn't really told me how he was doing. He said what he was going to do and explained what could have led to Leila's breakdown, but still now how he was doing. "I ask again, Christian… How. Are. You. Doing? You still haven't answered the question."

"I'm okay… really, Ana. I'm learning to not shoulder the blame as you put it. I had no hand in her husband committing suicide, nor her connecting with West. She was in the lifestyle long before she met me and afterwards. I had no influence in West's treatment of her, nor her decision to find you. Whether or not her goal was to get me alone or if suicide was her plan all along, I have no idea. What I do know is that I have the ability to help her, and I'm going to do it. Regardless of whose fault this is, she needs help, and I have the resources to see it's done. That's that."

I smiled. "Alright, there's the CEO I know and love. I'm glad you're not taking on the blame for this. It's a shitty series of events that led to her breakdown, but none of them had anything to do with you. In fact, part of me thinks that she was looking for the safety and comfort that she felt when she was with you. Yes I know you enjoyed harsh play and punishment your subs, but did you at any point make them feel unsafe? Didn't you make sure they were always comfortable and eager for more?"

"Yes, I did," he agreed. "Safety was paramount. And they were always told to let me know if they were uncomfortable with anything."

"Then there you have it. She knew 'safe and comfortable' meant you, and that's what she wanted. Then when she found out you were off the market, she wanted to know what I had that she didn't. It's not that simple of course, but to her grief-stricken and possibly abused mind, that's all she could think of. Now let's enjoy our time in the hot-tub."

He smiled, glad to change the subject. "I never thought to put one of these in Escala," Christian mentioned as we sunk into the water. "I had that huge bath tub, yes, but no jets. I wonder what the regulations are for outdoor hot tubs on the thirtieth floor of a building."

I shrugged, relaxing into the churning water, doing my best to resemble a stewing vegetable. "Well, there are buildings that have pools on the roof that are taller than Escala. I'm sure you could finagle your way into getting one on the balcony. Or hell, you could have it indoors, I suppose. Or install a jacuzzi bathtub."

"I'm trying to think ecologically. With as often as you like baths, and I know you're not the only woman who does, I think it would be un-environmentally conscious to fill that big bathtub so often. That's a lot of water." I couldn't disagree with his logic.

"You live here now; why do you want to install a hot tub at Escala?" Was it about Kate and Ethan still living here? About the playroom? It was my house. Hell, I could kick out Ethan and Kate if he wanted me to. They were both more than able to find housing on their own; and quite frankly, it was about time they did just that.

"Just thinking about the value of the property going up if it had a balcony hot tub."

"Value of the property… didn't you give it to Taylor and Gail?" I was confused.

"Tried to," he replied. "They won't accept it. Not for all the tea in china, Mrs. Jones told me. Taylor is currently looking for an apartment closer to here that they can share. Mrs. Jones wants to remain in my employ, but she's unsure as to what capacity since you already have a housekeeper. I know she's been keeping to the kitchen when she is with us, but she knows that's your playground and just wants to find the right fit for herself."

"Where is she now? Escala?" He nodded. "Call her and send her over here in a couple hours. I have a business proposition for her. And call Mia, too. Get here over here ASAP. She should be done at the diner by now. This is just as much her decision as mine, seeing as we're business partners." We got out of the tub, slipped into some comfy lounge-wear while I explained my plan to Christian. Thankfully he agreed with me and thought it was a marvelous idea. We then made our way downstairs to the great room to receive our guests. Mia arrived first so I was able to speak with her about my plans before Mrs. Jones got there, in case Mia didn't agree. She agreed enthusiastically, thankfully, and couldn't wait to get started with the preparations. Mrs. Jones arrived then, accompanied by Taylor. Mia and I put together some easy snacks and offered drinks to the lot.

"So what's going on?" Mrs. Jones asked, taking a sip of wine.

"Well, as you know, Christian has moved in with me full time. I already have a housekeeper, so your expertise is not being put to use at this time. Also, he informs me that you two are refusing to accept the Escala apartment as your home. So you'll have little to do, and if you're like me, and I know you are, you're going to go bat-shit crazy without a job, soon. Right?"

"Yes, I will," she agreed, looking down. "I'm sorry to say, but I am a bit of a workoholic. I love what I do. I only have to clean once a week at the Escala home since no one is living in the main part of the penthouse. And with not much cooking to do other than what I do here sometimes, I am going to go absolutely bonkers."

I nodded. "I'm wondering, since you're such a wonderful baker slash cook, and I know you'd run a tight ship, if you'd like to help us open our next restaurant and be the manager?" Gail looked back and forth between me and Mia, trying to decide if we were serious or not.

"Really?"

"Yes! We want to open a coffee shop slash bakery," Mia explained. "Mostly coffee and tea, but with some pastries and the like for breakfast and yummy baked goods, with maybe some salads and soups for lunch. The first name we agreed on was Jonesin' for Java, but we wanted to run that by you, first."

"Jonesin' for Java? Really? You want to use my name?" She sounded enthused, but I couldn't tell for sure. "Maybe you could spell it a bit differently? Like J-O-N-Z-I-N? I just think that spelling it like my name might look a little weird. But I love the idea and I'd love to manage it!"

"Jonzin' for Java! I love it!" Mia said, clapping her hands together with glee. "Oh, we can make the Z in 'Jonzin' look so cool on all the signage!" We decided to head over to Mammaw's to have dinner and discuss more plans. Taylor and Gail hadn't been there yet to actually eat, so it was a bit celebratory, too.

And cue the brainstorming. The group of us threw out ideas for what to do with the restaurant, how to design it, and Christian, ever the businessman, offered insight on how to fund and market it. We'd been through all of this with Mammaw's Diner, but with each new project, the work would be slightly different.

Christian's phone rang, taking him away from the table. We continued to throw out ideas for the evening and ultimately decided to visit Mammaw's as a group and have dinner together. Mia and I were very happy with how the restaurant was doing. Full house every night, happy wait-staff, happy cooks, happy managers, everything was wonderful. The food was still top-notch and they were following our recipes to a T, and we were actually turning a profit. Enough that we could start investing in a new project, hence Jonzin' for Java. Gordon Ramsay couldn't have done it better himself.

Christian was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal. He smiled and responded at all the cues, but didn't offer anything to the conversation. He also was barely touching his food, which was a huge tell. "What's wrong?" I asked him.

"You're far too observant for your own good," he replied, smirking at me.

"You've hardly said a word since your phone call earlier, you're not eating, and you're more tense than usual. Something's going on. Tell me."

"Nothing's wrong per se, just trying to figure out how to tell you."

Oh lord. "Tell me what?"

"Welch has the DNA results," Christian whispered to me. "Took him a bit longer due to some other issues at Grey House. But he emailed them to me and told me about it on the phone earlier."

"Oh! Bhutan! Holy Cows, I'd completely forgotten about that! Did he tell you over the phone?" I ask. With everything that happened since he'd been in my office, the DNA test completely fell out of my conscious memory.

Christian nodded. "He's your father," he said lowly. I grinned. That was the first good thing that had happened in regards to biological relations since Christian and I met. Pierre was an up-standing man, successful, and already had a loving family. I couldn't but admit to being excited about the idea of having more siblings. I loved Kate and Ethan more than anything, but there was always more room to love more people. I had always wanted a nice big family, and now with entering Christian's family and finding out about Pierre, I was adding five siblings. Though I'd have to be sure that I didn't let Kate and Ethan think that they were anything less than the best siblings I could ever ask for.

"Then I guess we should plan a trip to Paris," I muttered. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. And on that note. "Christmas is coming up soon, maybe we could spend it in France."

"France?! Who's going to France?" Mia asked, having heard the last part of my suggestion.

"Um, I was just suggesting that Christian and I go there for Christmas," I replied. "I don't know how much you know, but I've just learned who my biological father is. And he's from France."

"What? No way! Christian, you never tell me anything." She pouted, pushing her bottom lip out.

"It wasn't my story to tell, Mia. You know how I am about privacy." She kept pouting, but nodded in understanding. I remembered that she wasn't there the night we mentioned it to Kate, Ethan, and Elliot. She'd still been at the diner. And then I'd neglected to bring it up when I'd seen her after that. I didn't keep the info from her on purpose.

"I didn't intentionally keep you in the dark, Mia. I just realized you weren't there when I first mentioned him to the family. You were here. I guess he was the farthest thing from my mind when I saw you afterwards. Jeez, I'm sorry." She leaned over and gave me a one armed hug conveying that all was well. "His name is Pierre Bhutan, and he saw one of the news stories about me and put two and two together. He'd had a summer fling with my biological mother and never knew about me. We just did a DNA test and sure enough, he's my father."

Mia started clapping again, which apparently is her way of showing excitement when she can't jump up and down. A few restaurant patrons looked on in amusement, fully aware of who we were. "Anyway," I continued once she calmed down. "He wants a relationship with me. He knows that I already have a wonderful, loving father, and he's not trying to replace him, but just wants to get to know the daughter he never knew he had. And I'll admit, I'd like to get to know him, too. I like the idea of not all of my biological family being crazy or criminals. Plus, he has three kids, and I'd love nothing more than to have more siblings to dote upon at Christmas time."

"We should call him tomorrow," Christian suggested. "Put the bug in his ear about us coming to France. He'll have to discuss it with his family, of course, but I doubt he'll say no. Have you been to France?"

"Years ago," I replied. "And only overnight for a business meeting. Didn't really get to see much while I was there. I'm excited to use my French again."

"Oh! Parlez-vous français?" Mia asked in flawless French.

"Oui mon ami, couramment," I answered. Mia smiled and prattled on in French, ignoring the fact that two others at the table didn't speak a lick of it. "Mia, Taylor et Mme Jones ne parlent pas français."

She started giggling, and apologized to Taylor and Mrs. Jones for her slip. "Well, do you two want to go on your own or should we make it a family thing?" Mia asked.

Whoa, the Greys and the Steeles in France with the Bhutan family? Oh dear heavens, no. "Um, I think, since it'll be my first time meeting the rest of his family that it should just be me and Christian," I replied. Mia pouted a bit but said she understood. "On that note, Mia, have you ever wondered about your biological parents?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I mean I have such great parents already, I don't need any more."

I nodded. "I understand that. I never had a desire to know my biological family at all. I mean, I knew my mother, but I didn't ever care to know which one of the sleazy johns was my father. Interestingly enough, it wasn't any of them. In fact, if Pierre Bhutan hadn't found me, I'd have never looked for him. But now that I know… I can't imagine not knowing, can't fathom not wanting to meet the rest of his family and know my other siblings. I have no idea if relationships or friendships will form out of this, but now that they're within my grasp, I have to try."

Christian wrapped his arms around me. "I'll admit to being vaguely curious once or twice as to who my father was. I was reasonably sure he was just another lowlife like my mother, and I was right, but I do feel a bit relieved now that I know. Unlike you, I'd have never wanted anything to do with that bastard, but at least I'll know about any genetic predispositions to heart concerns or cancer and the like."

"Exactly. We both have some shady characters in our family trees, but I think it's only made us all the better for it," I told him. He smiled, leaned over, and kissed me sweetly. And as if on cue, Taylor stood up from the table, then got down on one knee. Holy shit!

"Gail, I've known you for four years now, and every one of those moments have been amazing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" He presented her with a small red box. Cartier. Jeez, I knew Christian paid him well, but dayum. Inside was a platinum ring with a simple square cut diamond ringed by tiny rubies. Just Gail's style.

"Oh, Jason. Yes of course I will!" Happy tears sparkled in her eyes as he wrapped her in his arms and slid the ring onto her finger. We all cheered and clapped, which earned more attention from the other restaurant-goers, who then joined in the fun.

"This calls for a toast," I declared. We still had a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge from commemorating the opening night, so I had our server fetch it for us with some glasses. We toasted the happy couple and had fun for the rest of the evening. It was nice to feel normal for once.

* * *

Christian PoV

I didn't know why, but I felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop when it came to Bhutan. Perhaps it was only because in the short time I've known Ana, every biological relation we've discovered has been less than stellar. Then again, perhaps my intuition was working correctly and there was something to know. Welch had done a thorough background check and nothing came up. Pierre Bhutan had been an upstanding citizen since day one. Even his parents checked out. Welch was in the process of running checks on the former wives and children to be sure, but something told me those would be clean too. I needed to let it go and tell Ana the results before she got upset with me for withholding information.

Taylor's surprise proposal definitely took the thunder of the evening, for which I was grateful. He had picked out a lovely ring for her and wouldn't let me help at all. I had offered to call it his early Christmas bonus, but he wouldn't hear of it. "No sir. I've been saving a while now, and I've got it. You pay me well enough as it is, I don't need a bonus for this ring. Save your money for your own woman's ring." He'd winked at me then. In all the years I'd known him, he'd never once winked at me, or anyone for that matter. The lines between boss and employee were blurring if not disappearing all together. And I couldn't find it in me to be upset about that fact.

After dinner, Ana and I returned home and got lost in each other. Then it was back to business as usual. I went to work, she went to work, we got home, had dinner, had each other, then slept. A routine was finally forming, and it was nice. I liked it. I had made the decision to propose to her on Christmas Eve, preferably under the Eiffel Tower. Yes, it might be cheesy and overdone, but something told me she was going to love it.

Thanksgiving was fast approaching and with that, the decision of whether we would attend Thanksgiving with her family or mine. "Why not both?" she'd suggested. "We could have it here. Your parents haven't been here but twice, so it makes sense. Let's host our first Thanksgiving together, babe."

She had me at babe. "Alright, let's do it," I agreed. "Turkey or ham?"

"Both," she answered. "That's a Steele tradition, anyway. I think we should mix our rituals with your family's a bit. What does your family do?"

"I'm afraid this is one instance in which the Grey family is rather boring. Normal turkey with normal side dishes and all the fixings. Oh, my mother will likely insist on providing the bread. She makes amazing dinner rolls." My mouth was salivating just thinking about it. Nothing beat my mom's dinner rolls. Nothing at all. "I think we do a wine toast and say what all we're thankful for, and that's about it."

"Wow, well, I guess this is a case of Steele Takeover," she replied. "Our Thanksgivings are always memorable. Just let me handle things, love, 'kay?"

"Okay," I agreed. As much as I'd always loved being in control of my entire life, I was happy to relinquish this to Ana, if not a few other things that she's sort of acquired since I've known her. She's taken control of my heart, that's for sure.


	33. Chapter 33

Sorry for the long wait on this one. Real life can be such a pest. Thanks for your patience and for reading!

-Wrenegade

* * *

Chapter 33

* * *

Ana PoV

Thanksgiving preparations were going off without a hitch. Apparently once one learns how to run a restaurant, a family gathering for 14 people was simpsville. A call to Grace informed me that her and Carrick's parents always attended Thanksgiving with them and asked if they could join us as well. "Of course," I'd told her. "The more the merrier." I was thankful though, that there weren't any more than the fourteen. Both my parents' parents were already dead, and their siblings were celebrating with their own families. I wanted it to be a formal affair, so I sent out invitations close to Halloween, which would give everyone plenty of time to prepare. Apart from Grace's dinner rolls, and her mother's pie, I was going to make everything myself. My mother and Mrs. Jones offered to come over early and help. I almost told them no, but realized, I'd be stressed out doing it all alone and agreed to have them come over in the morning. Also, I wasn't about to invite the Bhutan family over. Christian and I were all set to go to Paris for Christmas and Bhutan was more than thrilled.

I'd asked him for my new siblings' contact information so I could get in touch with them and possibly get to know them a bit before arriving. That way I could shop for them possibly. His three children were nineteen year old Antoinette, going to University at Oxford for theatre, seventeen year old Andres, who was about to finish his final year of schooling before going to a university in Italy, and twelve year old Audra, who was just trying to be as cool as her older sister. Complete coincidence that my name also started with A. Though Bhutan mentioned that he had a sister named Anne that he spoke very highly of to my biological mother. Maybe that's why she called me Annie girl before she stopped loving me. Anastasia was the name given to me by Miranda and Ray, which they picked because they knew it was close enough to Annie for me to pick it up. Eventually, I just became Ana.

I hadn't divulged to Bhutan fully yet, about what a horrible mother Rebecca was. It wasn't something he needed to be burdened with at the time, if ever. Clearly, she didn't want to be found or at first was too ashamed of getting pregnant or falling into the drug world to even go home or respond to his attempts to contact her. And then the further she fell into Heroine and Meth, the less herself she became. The photos of her as a young bright fifteen year old vs. the mug shots taken of her when she got busted for soliciting once when I was five were quite stark. That was a fun time in my life. She wouldn't tell the officers where she lived, but they kept her in the tank for seventy-two hours. That was 3 days of no food or water for me and Ethan. Shortly after that, she found out she was pregnant with Kate, and life got seemingly impossibly worse.

Anyway, Antoinette looked a lot like me, but was taller and her hair was nearly black. She kept it straight as an arrow and parted down the middle with two braids. She looked like Wednesday Addams, but I didn't tell her that. Her email to me indicated that she was very excited about the possibility of having an older sister, but didn't want to keep her hopes up for me being as cool as I seemed. She did like that I spoke French fluently and wanted to hear me speak it on the phone or something. I suggested we could Skype if she liked, and that way wouldn't have to worry about international charges on her dormitory phone. She also mentioned that she liked the idea that she could look up to me as both a successful business woman and an older sister. I wondered if I was going to end up being her mentor or something, which wasn't altogether displeasing. I was used to being the big sister, caregiver, and even inspiration to Kate and Ethan. Doing it in French wouldn't be much of a difference.

Andres, being the only boy, of course had a reputation to uphold. Too cool for older sisters, type thing. His most oft used phrase in his emails back and forth to me was "whatevs," which I was fairly certain was not used anymore. I mentioned to him that I had a younger brother, Ethan, who was also a middle child and the only boy. He seemed interested in connecting with him, too, even though they weren't related directly. I gave Ethan Andres' info so he could get in touch with him, too. Ethan had said, "Any sibling of yours is a sibling of mine, Ana. Biology be damned." When I relayed that to Andres, he replied with a smiley emoticon. That was all the more emotion I ever got out of him. Even when I told him I spoke Italian, which I thought would interest him considering he was going to college in Italy. But he simply said, "Cool." Andres said he also had an interest in architecture, so I knew he and Ethan or Elliot for that matter would have loads to talk about.

Audra was about the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. The photos that Pierre sent of her had me wanting to pick her up and squeeze her to death. She had big blue eyes like mine, but light brown curly hair. It was in tight ringlets all over her head, much like Curly Sue. In fact, that was her nickname, I learned. She didn't speak English very well, but was pleased when she learned she could communicate with me in French. She was also learning Spanish. I told her I could help her with English and Spanish, as I spoke all three languages, plus more. She was super into performing arts and sent me all kinds of links to videos of her doing various performances. She really wanted to be just like her big sister. "I tried to make my hair like hers, too, but mother won't let me. She's afraid if I straighten the curls that they won't come back," she'd said.

Pierre had offered to invite my siblings to Christmas but I reiterated to him that I wanted it to be just me and Christian at first, and then if the rest of the family, both his and mine, wanted to come meet him, then that was fine. He agreed, realizing it would be a lot to take in with just me there, let alone bringing Kate and Ethan, who of course would want to bring Elliot and Mia. At that point, might as well bring the whole Steele and Grey families. Yeah, too much for an initial visit.

"What's up, Buttercup?" Christian asked one afternoon after I'd gotten done Skyping with Ant. (That was the nickname she told me to use.) He strode to me and kissed me lightly. "How's Antoinette?" He'd gotten used to me emailing or Skyping with her every day. Not as often with the other two, but since Ant and I were much closer in age, we had more to talk about. I could see myself getting really close to her, and I had hopes that it would truly happen.

"Shakespearean lit is kicking her arse," I relayed. "I told her I'd be happy to go over iambic pentameter and some of the classics with her during our stay. That seemed to please her. Helps that I remember literally everything I read, see, and hear. I've read most of his plays and seen a lot on stage; I got this. Also… Buttercup? That's a new one. Shall I call you Westley? Though, you seem more like an Iñigo Montoya type to me. But if that were the case, then I'd have to prepare to die, because I did in fact kill your father. But I only have 5 fingers on my right hand, though. You would make an excellent Dread Pirate Roberts. Oh, but the Man in Black… yes, you're definitely the Man in Black."

"What in the ever loving hell are you talking about? Who the fuck is Westley? And what's an Iñigo Montoya. Why are you preparing to die? Why wouldn't you have five fingers and why would I kill you? Pirates? Men in Black?"

I gaped at him. "You…. How… you've never seen… Oh. My. God! You've never seen The Princess Bride?!"

"The what?" he asked.

"Holy crap on a cracker, we have to fix this right the fuck now. I'll go make the popcorn, you go change into your lounge clothes and get comfy in the theater room. Yes, the theater room. We're not going to watch this movie on the TV in my room, it's far too small for the sheer amount of Epic that we are about to behold."

"Really? Movie night?" he asked, bemused.

"Fuck yes, movie night! In fact, I might even call the siblings and have them join us. It'll be a triple date. Hell, we could order Pizzas, too. Still, go get changed out of your delectable suit before I rip it off of you anyway."

"Any other suit, I'd say rip away, sweetheart, but not this one. This is Dior." I chuckled.

"Be that as it may, we need to watch this film ASAP. I'll call the sibs and order the noms."

"God, I love you, woman," he called out as he sauntered up the stairs. It was all I could do not to follow him and watch as he took off his sport coat, draping it carefully over the chair near the closet, followed by removing each cufflink and setting them on the dresser. Then he'd remove the tie, carefully placing it back on his tie-rack. After that, he'd slowly undo all the buttons on his shirt, pulling it from his trousers and then toss it in the laundry basket. Yes, I knew his routine like the back of my hand. The fact that he never just threw his clothes around the room and instead used the baskets or put them away, was a turn on by itself. Add to that the knowledge that anything he did was sexy, and I had to make sure I was in a different part of the house whenever he was undressing lest we be late for whatever we had planned.

I got a hold of Kate, who thankfully was with Elliot and said she'd call Ethan or Mia to get them all over for movie night. She was just as flabbergasted as me that Christian hadn't seen one of the best movies of all time. Turned out Elliot hadn't seen it either, and if that was the case, chances were Mia was also in the dark to the wonder that is The Princess Bride. I also took everyone's orders for Pizza. Elliot also wanted wings.

Calling up my favorite local place, Pizza Pie, not a chain, I placed the order for two extra cheese pizzas, another one with pineapple and black olive, one garbage pizza, and one "meaty mcmeaterson" It was Pizza Pie's version of the Meat lovers pizza that so many chains had. They had three kinds of wings, and I forgot to ask Elliot what kind he wanted, so I ordered a dozen of all three, with all their optional dipping sauces. It wasn't a big deal, with my appetite alone; we'd polish off 5 pizzas and 3 dozen wings between the six of us easily. Perhaps not all in one sitting, but over the course of the weekend, surely.

I also had them bring out a couple orders of cheesy garlic bread and some 2-liter bottles of soda. Then the guy on the phone tried to upsell me their take and back chocolate chip cookie pizza that we'd throw in the oven mid-way through dinner and it'd be hot and gooey in time for dessert. "Sold! In fact, make it two!" I told him. "You're a hell of a salesman. So what's the damage?"

He gave me the total, which wasn't as much as I anticipated. I guess there was some deal on buy three pies, get two free, so the two cheese pizzas were comped. I also had a suspicion that he wasn't charging me for both cookie pizzas, but it was all good in the hood, so they say. Kate and Elliot arrived then, followed shortly by Ethan and Mia. Christian came down just as the Pizza was arriving. I thanked the driver for being so prompt and gave him an extra tip, asking that he be discreet about where my house is. "No worries, Miss Steele. I won't tell a soul."

"You know that I'll find out one way or another if that's not the case, right?" I replied. "If anytime within the next… month, there's a single reporter, paparazzi or any other stranger on my property, I'll have your job and your next five. Understood?"

He swallowed audibly, seeming good and well frightened that I would make good on that threat. "Yes, Ma'am. Not a soul. On my honor, you have my word; I'll take it to the grave."

"Alright Joey, thanks," I said, my demeanor changing back to the bubbly young woman that had placed the order originally. He looked at me like I was crazy, but was thankful for the business and the large tip. If he indeed kept his trap shut, I'd give him an extra tip later on.

Kate and Mia helped me set up the buffet table that was off to the side in the home theater room and the guys brought in plates, cutlery, cups, and lots of napkins. "So, Mia, are you new to this movie, too?" I asked her.

"I might have seen it when I was a kid, but I can't remember anything about it," she replied.

I shook my head. "Okay, so no, you haven't seen it. This is the kind of movie that sticks with you. You never forget it. It's truly a classic. That being said, there are rules. Rule one: there will be no talking during the film, Rule two: no throwing of popcorn, or any other items. That means you, Elliot. For every transgression, you will pay me five dollars that will become an additional tip for the delivery kid that dropped all this off. I'll bring it back to him in a month, provided he's kept his trap shut about where we live. Treat this room like you would a normal movie theater, and use the same modicum of manners you would there, too. Rule three: Don't stand up in the middle of the room, blocking everyone's view, and above all, Rule four: silence your fucking phones, pagers, blackberries, tablets, laptops, PDAs, any and every piece of technology. For the next two hours, it's radio fucking silence. Got it? Better yet, leave them out in the living room. I don't want any kind of technological disturbances up in here. Capiche?"

"Yes Ma'am, Warden Steele, Ma'am!" Elliot joked, saluting me before stepping out of the room and setting his and Kate's phones on the couch. Ethan and Mia followed suit. I held my hand out for Christian's but he just stared at me.

"Oh don't give me that. You leave your blackberry in the bedroom all the time when we're down here or out in the yard. Cough it up, Mister." He placed his phone in my hand and I put it with the others and mine. "First person that gets up to go check their messages has to pay for the food. All of it. Once the movie is over, all bets are off, feel free to tweet and update and scroll to your heart's content."

We settled in with our plates full of food and I pressed play. "Hey it's the kid from the Wonder Years!" Elliot shouted. I paused the film.

"Rule number one, Elliot? What was it?"

"Wait, you were serious?"

"Dixie chick serious," Kate and I said together, quoting one of our other favorite films.

"This room is sacred. We do not break the rules under any circumstance. Hell, Kate or Mia could be 9 months pregnant, about to pop, break their water, and that baby had better stay in until the movie's over. No fucking joke. Five dollars, Mister. Hand it over." When he realized we weren't going to re-start the film until he paid me, he reluctantly fished out his wallet, found a five dollar bill and handed it to me. I could tell he wanted to throw it at me, but then he remembered rule two, and knew it would only cost him another five dollars. "Now, before I press play again, does anyone need to refill their plates or cups or anything?"

I grabbed another slice of pizza while everyone decided and then pressed play again. Halfway through the movie, Mia leaned over and tapped me on the shoulder. "I should have gone before, but I have to pee," she whispered. "I hate to make you pause this, but I don't want to miss anything."

"No worries, I'll pause after this scene," I assured her. It was the scene where Buttercup has been kidnapped by Vezzini and he is about to be challenged by the Man in Black to drink iocane tainted wine. I hit pause just after Westley assured buttercup that he'd built up a resistance to Iocane powder. "Alright, pee break," I said to everyone. "Fill up your plates, relieve the bladder, refill your cups, do what you need to do. But, Rule 4 is still in effect. No checking phones until the film is over."

Elliot was complaining to Kate about my strict rules, when Elliot interjected. "Dude, I once forgot to turn off my phone, and Ana revoked my theater privileges for six months. Rightfully so. The rules in this room are not to be messed with. There's nothing worse than being in a theater with people who are eating loudly, making messes, talking to each other, or diddling around on their phones. Movies are meant to be watched and enjoyed. If you don't have the attention span to sit and enjoy a film, then you should stick with television and out of this room."

"Do all of you feel this way?" Christian asked, aiming his query at Kate. She nodded fervently.

"We're not a religious family, but this room is like our sacred temple. We do not break the rules. Not ever. And when one is broken, the consequences are severe. We have to enforce the rules otherwise chaos would reign in here, and that just simply isn't acceptable. Movies are a way of life to the Steele family. I guess you guys weren't raised to appreciate film the way we were, but we really do see films as adventures or ways to escape reality for a while. Same for books. Why do you think we have such an extensive library here? Books and movies. That's what we're all about. Oh and Food. Always food."

I couldn't have said it better myself. Kate knew exactly how to describe the way this room is for us. It's not just another room in the house that happens to have a big screen that we watch movies on. This is our church, our respite, our great escape from the world out there. Especially when we're showing a film that half the viewers haven't seen, the sanctity of the theater must be upheld at all costs. The world could be crashing down around us, and we wouldn't even know, nor care until the credits were rolling.

* * *

Christian PoV

I knew Ana liked movies a lot, but I had no idea it was that much. Nor did I know that the rest of her family seemed to have an equal obsession with Cinema. It was really like a religion to them, as Kate had said. I'd kind of always considered TV and movies to be a waste of time. Perhaps I needed to expand my horizons in that area. This film so far was pretty damn good. I was starting to understand Ana's references from earlier, at least. I should show her my fencing skills some time.

The Buttercup character bothered me, though. She was such a stereotypical damsel in distress. Couldn't do anything for herself in the fire-swamp. Westley was nearly killed by the ROUS, and by the fire, and by the lightning sand, yet he saved her at every turn. Perhaps that was how Ana saw me. That I saved her. If I was her Man in Black, then she was my Woman in Black. There was no Buttercup and Westley here. Elliot could be Fezzig though. God knew he was big enough. As the movie progressed, I found many parallels in our lives to the characters and scenes in this film. Nothing that translated exactly, of course, but quite a few similiarities. Vezzini reminded me of Elena, for some reason. Prince Humperdink was definitely Jack Hyde.

By the end of the movie, I felt as though I understood why Ana loved this film so much. As the grandfather mentioned in the beginning, the book had everything. Giants, pirates, sword fights, revenge, chases, escapes, and true love. That was what I took from it, anyway. True love was unlike any other thing in this world, and not enough people get to experience it. I was lucky enough to be one of those few. Ana was my true love. True as the sun during the day and the moon at night. She was my universe, my sun and stars, my everything. In that last scene, she was the Buttercup to my Westley, and I'm quite certain that all of our kisses have blown that one out of the water.

"Well? What did you all think?" Ana asked once the credits began rolling.

"I thought it was amazing," Mia said, wiping tears away from her cheeks. "How have I gone my entire life without seeing this movie? I feel like my whole childhood has been a lie! I mean, there were moments in high school and even in Cookery school where people would quote this movie in every day conversation and I always felt like I was being left out. I never understood. I had a chef professor who would use the word inconceivable all the time and one day someone said back, 'you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.' The rest of the class erupted in laughter and I was left completely confused. Now I get it! Now I get everything. Thank you Ana, for inviting me over to watch this and for sharing this moment with all of us. It was truly a spectacular film. I hope I can come back and watch more movies here."

Ana pulled my sister into her arms. "Mia, you are more than welcome to join us for movie night, any time. We try to have it once a week, usually on Thursdays, but it doesn't always happen, and hasn't for a while lately. We've all been a bit busy. But do you all agree that we should resume weekly movie nights? If you have other friends that you want to invite, that's fine. As long as they obey the rules, of course."

"Yeah, about the rules," Elliot stated. "I get why they're there, and at first, I thought it was a bit ridiculous, but then I thought about all the times I've been at a theater and someone has gotten up in the middle of the movie and walked across the aisle, totally interrupting my connection with what was on screen, or someone in the row in front of me looking at their phone. It's rude and it totally messes with the whole experience. From now on, I will be a follower and enforcer of the Movie Rules. Scout's honor." He put three fingers against his forehead. Thankfully for him, he actually was a boyscout, so his honor could be upheld.

"Christian? What did you think?" Kate asked. "Was the movie all you expected it to be?"

"And more," I replied. "But Ana, you're not Buttercup. First of all, you'd never treat a farm boy the way she did Westley at first, you wouldn't be so helpless in the fireswamp or anywhere else, and you'd never ever ever marry prince humperdink to think you were saving my life. You'd just shoot him with an arrow instead."

She laughed. "Yes I would. I guess I'm more the man in black than anything. But so are you, Christian. I guess we can both be that for Halloween."

"Halloween!" Mia exclaimed. "It's in like two days!" More like a week, but Mia was prone to exaggeration. "What are we doing? Partying? giving out candy? I can't imagine there are many kids in this neighborhood, the houses are so sparse, too. What should we do? We could have a horror movie marathon here, or we could host something at Mammaw's. But we'd probably have had to advertise it already by now. It's only a week away."

"I know!" Ana replied. "Let's have a swing dance night at Mammaw's. We'll remove all the tables and chairs so most of the floor can be a dance floor. I think if we advertise it on Facebook, Twitter, and the website, enough people will see it that we'd have a good turnout. We can have the theme be 'Famous stars of the 50s. Dress as your favorite character from TV or a movie that came out in the 50s or was set in that decade.' What do you think?"

Mia pulled Ana in for a hug. "There are reasons you and I are business partners. That is an amazing idea! Let's go start planning. Ethan, get on the websites and start tweeting, will you?" And the rest of the evening was spent planning out the Mammaw's Halloween bash, the first annual one at that. The event description on Facebook went into detail on what would qualify one for the costume contest and what food items would be available It was going to be an all you can eat for $10 admission. 18+ age requirement, as we figured some attendees might take liberties with 50s garb and come dressed scantily-clad, despite our warnings to the contrary.

"You could give candy out earlier," Kate suggested. "A lot of businesses in that area do a candy give away during the day or in early afternoon. Someone could do that until say 8 o clock, then have the doors open for the adult party at 9 or 10. Most halloween parties don't kick off until then, anyway."

"Wonderful idea, Kate," I complimented. "This way, Mammaw's will be catering to all ages."

Then it was settled. By morning, the tweets had been sent, the event created on Facebook, and emails sent to those patrons that signed up for Mammaw's newsletter and other updates. By afternoon, the Facebook event already had 75 confirmed attendees and many comments from parents that were excited about Mammaw's participating in the trick-or-treat event that the other businesses did.

It was amazing what the six of us could come up with when we put our heads together. It often felt like we were meant to be family. While Ana, Ethan, and Kate were always siblings, biologically that is, Elliot, Mia and I were brought together by sheer happenstance. Any couple could have adopted any of us, but it just so happened to be Carrick and Grace. And they just so happened to move to Seattle where the Steeles also just so happened to move.

Fate. That's what it had to be. If I believed in nothing else, Fate had to be the singular thing that kept me grounded and my eyes on the future. Ana and the rest of the Steeles were my fate. Now we just had to see where the Bhutan family fit into all this. Ana was starting to get close to her half-siblings, especially the eldest, Antoinette. I wanted to encourage her to keep building that relationship, but what if it all came crashing down. What if the Bhutans were really some French crime family that have a lot of carefully constructed shell corporations and business fronts to hide their shady dealings? There simply had to be more to them than met the eye. I just couldn't accept that they were real, honest, good, upstanding people. That just didn't happen in our lives. It just didn't.


	34. Chapter 34

Sorry for the delay on this, folks. I've been working on updating all my stories, and also on getting my inventory for my etsy store done. There just aren't enough hours in the day to get everything I want done. Thank you, as usual, for sticking by me and for reading the thoughts that tumble out of my head!

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Chapter 34

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Ana PoV

It was the day of the Halloween event at Mammaw's. Christian and I decided to go as Marilyn Monroe and Cary Grant from Monkey Business. But we went as if we stepped right out of the black and white film. The make-up was extensive and time consuming, Kate and Mia helped, but by the end, we looked the parts. "Christian, you do realize that only a few months ago, you never would have let me close enough to you to do this, right?" Mia asked, tears making her eyes shimmer. Before she put the gray lipstick on his lips, he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"I know Mia, and I'm so glad I'm past all that." She threw her arms around him, careful not to smudge the make up on his chin and neck.

"That goes for you, too, Sis," Kate said to me. "I never thought we'd be the kind of sisters to do each other's hair and make-up. You let me do yours for the Coping Together ball, but otherwise, almost never. It's a nice change for me, too." I agreed with her and squeezed her hand affectionately. My skin was almost nearly covered in gray make up, so a hug was not going to happen.

By the end, we looked amazing. Especially Christian. He was very dashing in a black and gray plaid suit jacket with black trousers and wing-tip shoes. I wore a gray dress with a full circle skirt that had two white bands across the waist and a light gray scarf around my neck, complete with a torpedo bra and silk stockings. Christian hardly let me out of the house once he saw my undergarments. Our skin was painted gray and we both wore black contacts to darken our eyes. Christian put black washable hair dye in his hair and slicked it down like Cary Grant would do. I had found a grey wig that was styled a-la Marilyn Monroe. We looked perfect. If only we could enter our own costume contest; we'd surely win.

We met up with the others at Mammaw's. Our parents had opted for a night in at the Greys' house, handing out candy to the few kids in the Greys' neighborhood. Grace would put together a package for each kid that had about six king-size candy bars each. Most of the homes in that area did just that as they got so few trick-or-treaters. It's a wonder more kids didn't catch on. I mean six king size candy bars from five houses is way better than a dozen fun-size ones from a dozen houses. Way less work for a far better pay out. Seems like common sense to me, but yet, every year there's still plenty of candy left over, Grace said.

Mia and Ethan had decided to go as Lucy and Ricki from I Love Lucy. They weren't black and white like us though. Mia had tucked her long ebony locks into a fiery red wig. Ethan had done what Christian did with the washable black dye and found a suit that looked like it came from the set of the show. Kate and Elliot decided to join Mia and Ethan with a group costume and went as Fred and Ethel. Elliot even went to the barber to have his head shaved bald on the top, much to Kate's chagrin. "It'll grow back in a couple weeks, babe," he'd said. He tucked his tie into his too-high trousers and went out of the office and into the main dining area.

"Well he gets an A for authenticity," I told Kate as I followed the rest of the group out.

"No, you and Christian get the As for authenticity. I mean seriously. Who would think to go as not only famous actors, but right out of a black and white film? C'mon. You guys would totally win the contest. Also, your eyes that color are really weird."

"Yeah, it's really too bad we can't enter our own contest," I agreed, shrugging. "But I am excited to see what the rest of Seattle has to offer for costumes today." Out in the main lobby, our employees had decided to come in costume as well. We had closed after lunch for the Halloween festivities, but pretty much everyone decided to stay on and help out with the candy give-away and was going to stay for the party. I told them if they were off the clock for the party, they could be entered for the costume contest. Just management and owners were exempt from the voting.

Around four p.m, children and their parents started trickling in for candy. We tried to get the best candy so the kids would be extra happy coming to our restaurant. The parents were raving about our decorations and costumes, and we raved right back about their kids' get ups. There were witches, wizards, warlocks, Whovians, ghouls, ghosts, goblins, hobbits, harry potters, ladybugs, Sponge-bobs, pirates, and more. A little girl even came in with a 50s dress just like our waitresses wore and tattoo "sleeves" on her arms. Her parents said she loved our restaurant so much, she wanted to go as it, but it was easier to go as one of the waitresses than the building itself.

The waitress she was emulating was so honored and humbled, she blushed from head to toe. She even ran into the locker room to change back into her uniform so she could take a photo with the little girl. "That little girl made me feel like one of the princesses that take photos with children at Disney World. Like I was her idol." She started getting teary-eyed and took a moment to collect herself before putting her Halloween costume back on, she had dressed as Bettie Paige. I had to admit, if a child came in dressed as me, I'd probably have a minor breakdown, too.

Around seven-thirty, the children began disappearing as they had trick-or-treating to do in their own neighborhoods. I felt sympathy for the parents who had to bring home pillow-cases full of candy that their kids collected. Either they dealt with the sugar-high of the century or the tantrum of a child being kept away from the spoils. No thanks. Not something I wanted to deal with.

Nine PM came along and we were ready for the adult party. Ethan and Elliot were dutiful bouncers, collecting the fee from the incoming party guests and checking IDs. Kate and I manned the coatroom area. Christian and Mia were directing people to the food while I signaled to the DJ to start the music. Before long, the room was full of people dancing, eating, drinking, and having a grand ol' time. After a little while, Mia and I went around taking Polaroids of all those who wanted to enter the costume contest. We wrote their name and their costume on the bottom of the photo and then tacked them all onto a cork-board on one wall with a corresponding number. We had announced that the voters were to write their top three numbers on a ballot and stick it in the ballot box. All votes had to be in by One AM and then someone would have the grueling task of tallying them all up before the end of the party. I had a feeling it was going to be me, given my ability to sort quickly and my memory.

I had to admit, we had some fairly creative costumes, but none quite so good as my own. There was another couple that attempted the grayscale make up, but you could see the make up lines and the cheap product they used as it was wearing off in certain places and you could already see their natural skin tone peeking through. It was a valiant effort all the same. Christian and I posed for photos with many people, even signed some autographs. It felt weird to be a local celebrity, but according to Christian, it was something we both had to get used to. Being photographed by the paparazzi and written about in gossip magazines was one thing, but being asked to sign autographs for fans and pose in photos with them was something altogether different. It was more real and personal. Like the waitress who posed with the little girl, I almost felt like a Disney character made real.

Around midnight Christian's parents and mine came in. All four of them were in costume, having dressed as their own parents, apparently. Each of them had found a dress or a suit owned by their parents in the fifties. Carrick was a few inches taller than his father, so the pants were high-waters on him, and My mother was a few sizes smaller than Mammaw, so the dress was more like a moo-moo than a fitted one, but they still looked wonderful. Someone had the bright idea for all the Greys and Steeles to pose together as a family photo. I had a strong feeling that this was going to end up on the family Christmas Cards.

By one am, all the votes were in and I went into the office to begin tallying them up. Grace and my mother both offered to help, for which I was grateful. We had to count up all the tallies and ensure that each of the characters actually met the requirements. There were a few that didn't debut until the 60s, like a very convincing Fred and Wilma Flintstone. They had a lot of votes, too. We decided to have a consolation prize for them, considering they had a lot of votes, but were technically disqualified from the original theme.

Another fan favorite was a group costume of Rocky, Bullwinkle, Boris and Natasha. Thankfully, that show debuted in 1959, so it qualified. They became third place after all the voting and weeding out of the disqualified candidates. The winner though, was a large group costume of Disney movies from the 1950s. Cinderella and her prince, they even had made little stuffed mice that looked just like the ones from the movie; Peter Pan and Wendy complete with a shadow attached to Peter's feet; Alice and the Cheshire Cat; and Aurora and Prince Phillip from Sleeping beauty. Aurora had even made the dress from the final scene that was blue on one side and pink on the other. The creativity these people came up with, with less than a week of notice astounded me. Second place went to a couple that pulled off Marilyn and Elvis Presley with Las Vegas impersonator-level accuracy. That and the fact that the one dressed as Marilyn was a man, and Elvis was a woman. Truly nice work.

The mothers and I came out of the office with the votes in hand. Christian took a quick look at the list and offered to help announce the winners. I began with the disqualified candidates that we still wanted to acknowledge. "Alright everyone, the votes are in! We're going to start with the consolation prizes, as some of you had amazing costumes, but they didn't fit quite right with the theme, so we couldn't admit them into the final voting. Fred and Wilma, your show debuted in 1960, so it's just shy of qualifying, but we didn't want your hard work and creativity to go to waste, so here's a gift card for Mammaw's." They came up and thanked me for still letting them get something even though they had made a mistake.

"I coulda sworn it came out in the 50s. Are you sure?" Wilma asked.

I nodded in reply. "I checked three different sources. All of them said 1960. But you did a wonderful job with your costumes, so we couldn't let you leave empty handed."

Christian took over then, "Next we have Popeye and Olive Oyl. Popeye originally debuted in a comic strip in 1929, then a Betty Boop film in 1933, but the cartoons most of us remember from our childhoods came out in 1978. Your costumes look great, though. He handed them a gift certificate and then we moved on to the qualified winners.

"In Third place, we have Rocky, Bullwinkle, Boris, and Natasha!" I announced. "The Rocky & Bullwinkle show debuted in 1959, just making it for the qualifications. Congratulations!" Their prize was a $50 gift card each for Mammaw's, a small 3rd place trophy, and a framed professional photo of their costume which would be sent out to each of them after being developed. They were sent off with the photographer to go pose again.

"In second place," Christian continued, "we have Marilyn and Elvis! Come on up!" I was surprised at Christian's enthusiasm. He didn't seem as excited about Halloween as his siblings did until now. I'd have to ask him about that later. This pairing got a $100 gift card each for Mammaw's, tickets to a show of their choice at the Paramount, a 2nd place trophy, and the professional photo.

"And in first place, the winners of the first annual Halloween costume contest at Mammaw's Diner is…. Disney Couples! Cinderella and Prince Charming, Peter and Wendy, Alice and Cheshire Cat, and Aurora and Phillip!" The group rushed up to get their prizes. For the grand prize winner, we offered dinner in our home with Christian and myself, gift cards for the restaurant, the trophy, the photo, and tickets to a show at the Paramount. If I had known the grand prize winners would be 8 people, I'd have re-thought planning a dinner in my own home for it. We'd need a bigger dining room table, that was for sure. The group seemed really intrigued by the idea of getting to spend an evening with the elusive Christian Grey and mysterious Anastasia Steele. Their words, not mine. One of the winners was a writer for the Seattle Sun and asked if she could do an exposé on me and my house once we had the dinner. "Surely the CEO of one of the top Architecture and Design firms on the west coast must have a glorious home," she'd said. I was suddenly very glad that Christian had decided not to move any of his playroom implements into my house. Giving a grand tour to this woman would result in hiding that room from her, and that would only lead to more rumours and gossip about us.

"Of course," I'd agreed. "I'd be happy to give you a tour of the house and grounds, and answer any questions about the design. Or rather, have Kate and Ethan answer those questions, since they were the masterminds behind the house plans." The woman, who I then learned was named Sasha Romanov, beamed with excitement. Somehow I felt that this dinner, which we'd all agreed to put off until after the holiday season, was going to be full of… well, we'll call it excitement.

* * *

Christian PoV

The Halloween candy give-away, and costume party went off without a hitch. I could tell that Ana felt a bit overwhelmed at the idea of 8 people coming over for the grand-prize dinner, but I was sure with the help of Maria, Gail and Mia, everything would be just fine. She'd agreed to an exposé on the house with a writer of a newspaper, which surprised me. Usually she preferred to be so private, but perhaps she was changing her tune. It also surprised me that she agreed to it without even casting me a questioning glance, let alone asking my opinion. But then, I guessed it was her house, not mine. Kate and Ethan seemed just as excited about the article as the writer was, so Ana knew she didn't need to get their input. But why not mine? Did my opinion on the matter not count?

By the end of the evening, I'd had my fill of camera flashes and autographs, and the grey make up was starting to itch. I couldn't wait to get home and wash it all off. Or rather, have Ana wash it all off me, and then I'd wash her. Yes, that thought kept me going until the last of the party-goers left. "Alright, everyone," Mia said. "I'd call that a successful first annual costume party!" She clapped her hands together in excitement in a way that only Mia can pull off. "What should the theme be for next year?"

"I think we have about eleven months to think of that, Mia," Ana said. "And I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted. I want a nice hot shower to get all this make up off, a soak in my hot tub and then to pass out in bed." Well, unless we got frisky in the shower or the hot tub, this was going to be a no-go night for Grey Jr. Ana reached for my hand and led me out of the restaurant. "I'm so thankful for the night clean-up crew," she said as we reached the car and she saw the gentlemen that would be cleaning up from the party. "I'll have to give them a nice bonus for cleaning all this up."

"Sounds great, love," I agreed, opening the car door for her. "To home and a shower?" She groaned her approval and slid into the passenger seat. After removing her wig and all the bobby pins holding up her long tresses, she fell asleep against my shoulder before we even made it home. She did have the wherewithal to put her hair between her face and my suit so as not to ruin it with the gray make up. She was so adorable I didn't have it in me to be upset with her about agreeing to the exposé on the house without asking me, but I did still want to discuss it with her, when we were both fully awake and alert.

Back at home, I woke her just enough so she could be helpful in getting out of the clothes and sat her in the bathtub while I filled it. "Too tired for a shower," I said when she quirked an eyebrow at me. Slowly and gently, I scrubbed away all the gray make up from her neck, arms, hands, and face. "There's the beautiful girl I know and love." I kissed her nose, eliciting a giggle. "Oops, I forgot about my make-up. Now I've smudged your nose." I wiped away the make up with my now clean fingers and handed her the sponge. "Think you're up for washing me, too?" This seemed to renew her energy and she first soaked the sponge in the now slightly opaque water and added a bit of soap to it.

"You have less make up on than me," she mentioned. The suit sleeves came to my wrists and the shirt collar came up higher than her dress collar, so we didn't have to cover as much of my arms and neck as we did hers. Once my face, neck and hands were fully clean, she moved the sponge over my chest and down my stomach. Her hand and the sponge disappeared beneath the water's surface and a certain part of my body began reacting to her light touch around it.

"I don't think you'll find any make-up there," I teased.

"Well, you never know. I have to be thorough." I leaned back against the side of the tub and let her continue her teasing ministrations. Closing my eyes, I wasn't aware of what was about to happen. The next sensation I felt was her lips wrapping around me. Dear god in heaven. It wasn't often that she took the initiative like this, and oh my hell, I liked it. I liked it a lot.

She hadn't come up for air in a long while and I wondered just how long she could hold her breath for. It had to have been at least three minutes. Before I could get concerned, she did stop for a second to take a breath or two before diving beneath the surface again. And here I thought she was too tired for any of this. Her lips and tongue pumping up and down my shaft felt so incredible. It wasn't often that I let her do this for very long, but this was one of those times that I was going to let her assault me with her mouth until the very end. "Baby, I'm going to come," I gritted out, feeling the surging release coming quickly. She increased her pace and tightened her lips around me, creating even more of that incredible suction feeling. Also, she moved her hands to stabilize my hips so I didn't thrash all over the place. I came hard and long, spurting down her throat, and hollering her name to the mountains. I had no idea if the others were home, and I didn't give a damn if they were.

She came up again, and promptly bonked her head on the faucet. "Ow!" She exclaimed. Immediately, my hand went to her head, checking for a cut. It came away clean, so I didn't think she broke the skin.

"Are you okay?" She then looked up at me, her pained expression gone, smiled at me, leaned up and kissed me lightly before climbing out of the bathtub. Then she turned on the shower for a final rinse off, I guessed. I couldn't even get out of the bathtub and join her before she was done and turning off the water. Then, without a word, she toweled off, donned a nightgown and headed to bed. Was something wrong? I followed suit with the rinse-off in the shower, dried off, found my pajama pants and climbed in next to her. She was turned away from me. We often cuddled like this during sleep, but when we were just going to bed, she always turned towards me and rested her head on my chest. It was one of my favorite things to do. "Baby is something wrong?" I asked. I barely heard her response, but she made a nu-uh sound. Maybe she was just incredibly tired.

I turned towards her and wrapped my arm around her waist. She did intertwine her fingers with mine and pull me closer; that at least gave me some hope that everything was alright. Before long she was snoring softly, seemingly content.

In the morning, she was still fast asleep when I woke up. Finally, a chance for me to make breakfast in bed for her! I slipped out of bed, found a t-shirt and tip-toed quietly down to the kitchen. Kate was already there, nursing a glass of orange juice. "Morning, Kate!" I greeted. She turned to me and glared. "What's good about it, you ask? Well, I finally get to make breakfast in bed for your sister. She's almost always awake before me or wakes as soon as I do."

"How on Earth are you so chipper this morning?" she asked. "Did you not drink last night?"

Come to think of it, no I didn't. Not apart from the one toast we had before we opened the doors for the evening party. Ana only had a sip as well, though that was normal for her. "Only the wine toast," I answered finally as I hunted down the bacon, eggs, and pancake mix. Ana made her own pancake mix. She would whip up a batch about once a month and it would keep in the fridge for anyone in the house that wanted pancakes. All I had to do was add milk, a bit of oil and an egg, just like Bisquick, but somehow so much better. Kate oversaw my flipping technique, trying to teach me how to flip the pancakes with just the pan and not use the utensil. I failed miserably three times before finally flipping a pancake perfectly. I went through more batter than I intended and it took me longer than I planned to complete the meal, but in the end, I had two plates with eggs, bacon, and pancakes. I placed it all on a tray with a dish of butter, and a small carafe of syrup. Coffee and juice were the final touches before I carried the whole thing up the stairs and into the bedroom.

She was still asleep, in the same position she'd been in when we went to bed. I hadn't realized how tired she truly must have been. Normally she turns over a couple times in the night, but to stay in the exact same spot for so long was out of the ordinary. I set the tray on the night stand and crawled into bed with her. I stroked her hair and lightly touched her skin, trying to wake her gently. She wouldn't like that she slept so late, even though it was a weekend.

After a few moments, she began to stir. "Good morning, Ana baby. I've brought you breakfast," I cooed. SHe turned over, rubbed her eyes adorably and looked at me curiously.

"Ce qui se passe? Qui êtes-vous?"

Why was she speaking to me in French? And why was she asking who I am? Is this a joke. "Um, It's me Christian… your boyfriend, for lack of a better term. Ana, are you alright?" I then remembered that she'd hit her head on the faucet in the bathtub. But how could that mess with her memory and make her default to French instead of English?

"Petit ami? Je ne ai pas de petit ami. Qui êtes-vous?!" Now she was getting angry, afraid and panicky. Something was seriously wrong, or she suddenly became the best actress ever. I ran from the room, calling for Kate and Ethan. Within seconds, they were at her door, and attempting to calm her down. She didn't seem to recognize them either.

Out of options, I called my mother. "Mom, something is seriously wrong with Ana and I don't know what to do." She asked me calmly what was going on. I relayed the morning's events and the fact that she bumped her head the night before. Too many things were out of the ordinary for this to be some fluke.

"I'll be there in ten," she promised. I knew she'd bring her med bag, hopefully with sedatives in it. Now, the breakfast tray had been thrown across the room, sending the food all over the wall, window and floor. _Sorry, Maria_ , I thought. Ana had locked herself in the bathroom, while Ethan had disappeared in search of a key.

"We all have keys to each other's rooms and bathrooms in case something happens like this," Kate explained. "Mostly for me, I think. I was prone to being a bit over-dramatic when I was in my teens and would lock myself in the bathroom frequently. We made a pact to never keep each other out, no matter what. This is one of those 'no matter what' situations."

I nodded in agreement. Ethan reappeared just as my mother arrived. "If she's going into hysterics, she may need to be sedated," she said, explaining the syringe in her hand. "If she's had some kind of emotional relapse, she may be adverse to touching, so it may take all of us to restrain her. But she needs to be taken to the hospital for an MRI and CTscan."

Frozen, I stared at my mother, hearing her words, but not comprehending them. "Mom, what are you saying?" I asked finally.

"Well, I won't know until we've run some tests… but given the sudden onset of symptoms, and the nature of the delirium… I'm sorry to say, it sounds like Ana has a tumor." The walls came crashing down around me. It was all I could do to remain standing let alone help the woman I loved get sedated. But then I realized… her siblings were being strong for her. If they could do it, I could, too. Inside the bathroom, my angel was screaming french obscenities and thrashing about. It broke my heart to see her like this, hating all of us and acting like she hadn't a clue who we were. But then I had to keep reminding myself. It's not her… it's whatever is causing the delirium. I charged into the room, got myself behind her and took both her arms under mine, pinning her against me. She screamed bloody murder, but I got her still enough for my mother to inject the sedative.

"Okay, let's get her to the hospital," I said, lifting her body into my arms. I was going to get my Angel back at any cost. We piled into one of the SUVs, with Ethan driving. Kate took the passenger seat while I sat in the back with the now unconscious Anastasia in my arms. My mother took her own car. She said she'd call ahead to the hospital to book the MRI and CT. I had never been more thankful that the paparazzi had left us alone for the last few weeks. I didn't want them seeing Ana in that state.

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A/N: Sorry for the bit of a cliffie here, it'll all be resolved in the next couple of chapters.


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: Here's chapter 35 already. I wanted to assuage the readers a bit... especially after I left that cliff-hanger last time. I have no idea when I'll get time to work on this story again. I had already had most of this chapter done when I posted Chapter 34, so it may be a while, but I'll do my best to keep that time as short as possible. Thank you all for reading!

The usual disclaimer applies... ELJ is the stage; I am merely a player.

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Chapter 35

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Christian PoV

I paced the waiting room while Ana got an MRI and CT done. My siblings, her siblings and our parents were there, along with Taylor, Mrs. Jones, Maria, Reynolds, and Anita. We were all in her corner and wanted her to be okay.

Hours later, my mother came into the room with a large manila folder. "I've consulted with the neuro-surgeon and oncology. She does have a mass in her head, but they don't believe it to be cancerous. Neuro has a theory that due to the prolonged abuse she suffered as a child, her skull formed a growth that she ruptured last night when she hit her head on the faucet. She has quite a few healed contusions that are very old, indicating she suffered them as a young child."

"Our mother would slam her head into the walls and tables when she was upset with her," Ethan said. "I didn't remember that until just now. Ana got the worst abuse of the both of us." Kate looked at him, an astonished expression on her face. She only knew what Ana and Ethan told her about their mother, as she'd died the day Kate was born.

My mother pursed her lips, nodding at Ethan's words but was visibly sad to hear more about what Ana suffered as a child. "Yes, the scans show exactly that. We agree that the faucet incident was right amount of pressure on just the right spot on her head to break apart the mass. It sent pieces of bone matter and other tissue into her brain which has caused her amnesia and her inability to speak in English.

"Christian, you mentioned that she was answering you as if she understood you, but only in French, yes?"

"Yes, that's correct. She understood English, but just couldn't speak it. She also didn't seem to be aware that she was speaking in French. What does this all mean?"

"She needs surgery. Dr. Shepherd will open up her skull and remove the remains of the mass and find all the shards and pieces that have been moving around in her brain. He doesn't see any actual damage to her brain, just that some of the brain functions have been affected by the pieces pressing against them. He expects her to make a full recovery.

"Oncology is going to take a test of the tissue that has built up against her skull just to ensure that it's not cancerous, but like I said, we don't believe it is. They're prepping her for the OR now and she's still sedated. The plan is that once she's out of surgery, she'll be her normal self again. Just… bald."

"Bald?" Kate asked. "Oh, I suppose they have to shave her head for this, huh. Oh man, she's going to be so upset. She loves her long hair."

"We'll get her wigs for now," I added. "You know she's going to refer to this debacle as 'faucet-gate' now." Her brother and sister laughed with me. I was glad to have a light moment for once.

It seemed we couldn't catch a break. For every good day we had or good thing that happened, something like this had to go and mess it all up. Maybe this was what I was sub-consciously waiting for. Nothing to do with Bhutan, but I somehow knew that something else was going to interrupt our lives and soon. Thanksgiving would likely have to be canceled or rescheduled to someone else's house. I knew brain surgery recovery could take a while, and that's barring complications. Worst case scenario, the Doctor slips and cuts her brain, damaging it and she's changed irrevocably.

I knew Doctor Shepherd was one of the best Neurosurgeons in the country, and Ana couldn't be in better hands. And she would be… literally in his hands. Everything that made her who she was lay beneath that half inch thick skull. Her personality, her knowledge, her experience, everything about the woman I loved was about to be exposed and vulnerable. I could go back in time and slap her mother in the face for causing yet another problem for my love. First Jack Hyde and now this.

I sat down for the first time and put my head in my hands. "She'll be okay, Bro," Elliot said as he sat next to me. "Did you know that Ethan and Kate both call her 'Steele?' I mean sure it's their last name, but to them, she's Superwoman… the Woman of Steel, hence the nickname. She's survived much worse, from what I understand."

"You're not wrong. She's incredible."

Elliot smiled. "Are you planning anything? Like marriage and stuff?" he asked.

"Yeah, I was going to propose under the Eiffel Tower on Christmas while we're in Paris visiting her family. Speaking of which, she's got a skype date with her sister. I should probably let them know what happened so they don't think she's standing them up." I pull out Ana's phone from my pocket and send an email to Pierre, Antoinette, Andres, and Audra.

 _Hello all, it's Christian emailing for Ana. She has unfortunately taken ill and is currently undergoing surgery at Seattle Grace Hospital. I am happy to provide the details if you wish to call or skype with me. As a result, she will not be able to make your skype conversations in the next few days, possibly weeks depending on her recovery time. But if I know anything about my Ana, it's that she's a fighter. She'll be okay. The doctors are confident in a full recovery._

 _Thank you,_

 _Christian Grey._

Within an hour, her phone was ringing with a call from Pierre. "Hello Mr. Bhutan, It's Christian Grey," I answered. I glanced at the clock on the wall and noted it had to be nearly three am in France. Clearly the man was worried about his daughter, which had me liking him a bit more.

"What happened, Mr. Grey? Is she going to be alright?"

"I'm not sure how much you know about the abuse Ana suffered as a small child. It was at her mother Rebecca's hands and it led to what is happening now."

"Yes, I know some. Once Rebecca succumbed to the world of drugs, she became a different person."

"That is correct," I agreed. "It was hellacious what was done to Ana and I won't go in detail, but due to repeated injuries to her head as a kid, her skull formed an abnormal growth of both bone and tissues beneath the surface. There wasn't a tangible bump on her head, but it had grown inward towards her brain.

"Last night, she bumped her head on a faucet right on that spot and it ruptured the abnormality. It sent fragments into her brain tissue and affected her memory and speech. She had no idea who I was, nor her sister and brother. Also, she was only speaking in French."

"Dear Lord," Bhutan rasped. "Was her brain damaged badly?"

"Not at all actually. The Doctors said that the fragments were merely pressing against the tissue and caused her behavior, but nothing has been damaged. She's in the OR right now having the fragments and extra tissue removed. Our Neurosurgeon is one of the best in the world, so she couldn't be in better hands."

"I'm in New York at the moment," he told me. Well, that explained his prompt reply. It was only 9pm in New York. "I'll get my plane to take me to Seattle as soon as possible. I want to see her. I'm sure her father is there and I don't want to make waves, but I simply must see her."

"Of course," I agreed. "I think it would make her very happy to see you. I'll speak with her parents to let them know you're on the way. Her surgery should wrap up around the time you arrive if you leave within the hour."

"That's the plan," he replied. I could hear him rustling fabric, likely throwing items into a suitcase. "I'll call you when I land to get an update. Thank you for letting me know about this, Mr. Grey. It really means a lot to me."

"You're welcome, and please call me Christian."

"Pierre then," he countered. "I'll speak with you in a few hours."

I ended the call and replaced Ana's phone to my pocket. I then let her parents know that he was on his way from New York. "Her relationship with him and his kids has been growing over the past few weeks," her mother stated. "I think that's wonderful. With as horrid a situation as she was in, she can find a small ray of sunshine in having that connection with her biological family that's not so… tarnished."

I laughed internally. Tarnished. That was putting it mildly. "Yes, he's aware that he's not a father to her, and he'll never replace you, Ray. He just wants to have some sort of a relationship with the daughter he just learned about."

"Of course," he agreed. "And even if she does sort of see him as a father figure, it'll never take away from my love for her or hers for me." Ending my conversation with them, I went back to my seat to sit quietly and contemplate the reality of what was going on. But then Mia came over and sat next to me.

"Christian," she addressed me. "I was thinking about Ana having to wear wigs and that had me thinking about Elena's salons. What's going to happen to them now that she's in prison?"

"Well, I was a silent partner in her salons, so they're still open and have defaulted to me as owner. I guess I'll have to decide if I want to re-brand or close them or sell them. I'm not sure. What do you think, Mia?"

"I think you should re-brand. Completely remove anything that reminds you of her and change it for the better. Plus closing them would put all those stylists and massage therapists out of work. Sure they're all talented enough for another salon to snatch them up quickly, but still. Job searching sucks."

"You're right. Perhaps re-branding and remodeling the lot of them. Sounds like a job for Grey Construction and Steele Designs," I commented louder, so Elliot, Kate, and Ethan would hear me. To keep our minds off the fact that someone was shaving Ana's head at the moment and would soon be cracking her skull open to poke and prod inside her brain, we discussed ideas for the salons.

What we all knew we agreed on but none of us would say aloud was that we wanted Ana's input on all of this. In fact, to me and most of the others, her opinions and suggestions were held above everyone else's. I think we all felt that way, but it sort of became an elephant in the room. "I think any of the workers that were loyal to Elena may want to find other work, I doubt there are many, but some of them may feel she's been wrongly imprisoned. I just don't want that kind of energy in the salons in any way."

Everyone agreed with my decision, and I knew for sure Ana would as well. I only hoped she didn't demand that I tear down or close all of the shops. They were a lucrative business and like Mia said, it'd put a lot of people out of work over a grudge.

A few hours later, one of the surgical interns came to give us an update. "Doctor Shepherd removed all of the pieces from the growth including what was still attached to the inside of her cranium and is closing her up. Everything went very smoothly and we had zero complications." The tension that I'd been holding in my shoulders released a bit. "She's going to be heavily sedated to prevent cerebral swelling or any other complications for a while so she likely won't wake until tomorrow, but you're welcome to sit with her in her room once she's returned. Probably another hour or so. Doctor Shepherd will be able to answer any of your questions at that time, too."

We thanked her and sat back down and waited for someone to come back and let us know she was in her room. Bhutan walked in a few minutes later, having made excellent time flying across the country. "I paid my pilot a little extra to fly faster," he said. "He's not supposed to do that, but I told him it was an emergency. Thankfully, he's got kids of his own and understood my panic."

"Mr. Bhutan, this is the rest of Ana's family. Her mother Miranda, father Ray, sister Kate, and brother Ethan," I said introducing him to all the Steeles. He shook each of their hands as I said their names. "And this is my sister Mia, my brother Elliot, and our parents Grace and Carrick."

"It's so nice to meet you all. The only solace I found on my plane ride was that I knew she had a lot of family in her corner. She speaks very highly of all of you, and I know the rest of my family can't wait to meet Ana and the rest of you, too. I hope our plans for the holidays can still come to fruition, despite all of this."

"We won't know until she wakes up, but she should be coming out of surgery soon," I told him. I relayed what the intern had told us and that she should be returned to her room soon, but under heavy sedatives for a while.

After an hour, as predicted, Doctor Shepherd came into the waiting room to let us know Ana was in her room. "You can go and see her now. I thought you might have some questions for me, though."

"Yes, she'll make a full recovery?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes, none of the pieces of the growth damaged her brain just as the scans indicated. All I had to do was basically play fifty-two pick up with the shards. It was delicate work, but I removed every piece and did a follow up scan to ensure none were left behind. Once the sedative wears off, she may be a bit confused or loopy as it were, but I expect she'll have full memory return and recognize each and every one of you."

I reached out to shake his hand. "Thank you Doctor Shepherd. Thank you so much." He simply smiled in return and then left the room. "Let's go see her."

Half-running down the hall, I entered her room as fast as I could without upsetting the hospital staff or other patients. Her head was wrapped in a white gauze bandage and her face was pale. She was wearing a paper thin gown and I made a mental note to have someone get her favorite pajamas from home and her bathrobe, too.

Her face looked serene as she was still deeply sedated and would be for quite a few hours yet. Her parents and siblings were the next to enter the room. Soon the whole lot of us were surrounding her bed. I held her hand tightly in mine, while her mother held the other. After a few moments, I passed her hand off to her father, and then each person got to have their moment with my love. "Taylor," I addressed my employee slash friend. "Would you go to our house and get her something different to wear? She has a favorite pajama set. It's dark blue satin with dragonflies and shooting stars. Also, her bathrobe that's hanging inside the en-suite door."

"Right away, Sir," he agreed, nodding once to Ana's family and then stepping out. By the time he returned with her things, she was still not awake. I handed the bag off to the nurse so she could get Ana changed. My mom stayed behind the curtain with them to help.

Ana stirred slightly as they were leaning her now pajama-clad form back against the pillows, but she did not awaken. In fact it wasn't for another several hours that she did finally flutter her eyes open. As soon as she focused, her eyes immediately landed on me. "Christian?" she asked.

"Yes, my love. How are you feeling?"

"Like someone was digging around in my brain," she replied. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Miranda asked.

"Hi mom, um… I remember coming home from the Halloween party, and taking a bath." She glanced at me then, her cheeks warming slightly. "And then that's it. I don't remember getting out of the tub or anything after that. What happened?"

"You hit your head on the faucet in the bathtub," I explained. I asked if you were okay, and you had simply smiled at me, leaving no indication that you were in any pain. Then you went and rinsed off in the shower, since the bath water was dirty with all our costume make up, and then got ready for bed.

"You fell asleep pretty much right away and then in the morning when I woke you, you didn't recognize me and were only speaking in French," I explained. "You became rather hostile, throwing the breakfast I'd made across the room and practically attacking your siblings. You were in defense mode, I understand."

"I was only speaking in French?" she asked. "Why the hell was I speaking in French?"

"I think I can answer that," Dr. Shepherd said as he came into the room, his wife Meredith in tow. She was my cousin. Her father and mine were brothers. "You had a growth on the inside of your skull, likely as a result of the repeated contusions you suffered as a child."

Ana looked down. "Yeah, my biological mother liked to slam my head into things." Meredith flinched at Ana's words. She had her own version of a terrible mother and was probably thanking whatever god she prayed to that her mother wasn't physically abusive as well as emotionally.

"Right," Dr. Shepherd replied, clearing his throat. "This growth was not causing any harm, so you had no way of knowing about it. However when you hit your head on the faucet it was at the right spot and at the right angle that it ruptured the growth, sending bone fragments and fluid into your brain. When said fragments would press against certain parts of the brain tissue, it caused your memory loss and linguistic confusion."

"Wow, what are the odds of that? And why now? I mean, I practice several forms of martial arts. My head hits the ground a lot when I'm sparring. Hell I've been hit and kicked in the head more times than I can count. Was this just the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak?"

Dr. Shepherd laughed. "Yes, basically. Like I said, it was at just the right angle, just the right amount of pressure, and at just the right spot. A perfect storm if you will. Good thing, too, though, as if that growth had gotten much bigger, it could have damaged your brain tissue."

"Am I bald?" she asked as she looked up to try and see the bandages around her head.

"Yes, love, you are," I told her. "But I'm sure if anyone can pull off being bald, it's you."

"Time to go to a wig shop, I guess," she joked. "How long until I'm out of here?"

"Well that depends on if you can even get out of bed," the doctor replied. Ana went to get up, but saw that she couldn't move her arms and legs at all. She could barely wiggle her fingers and toes let alone anything else. "As I suspected. It'll take some time for you to regain full motor function, as is normal when recovering from brain surgery."

"Ugh, so I'm stuck here until then?" She looked down and saw she was wearing her favorite pajamas. "Where did these come from?"

"Our closet," I told her. "I had Taylor go and get them once you were out of surgery. I figured you didn't want to be stuck in a paper gown for the duration of your stay."

She smiled at me. "There are reasons I keep you around, Grey." She then looked around the room at everyone in attendance. So far it was just me and the four parents in the room. "Are the brothers and sisters here?" she asked. I nodded telling her Pierre had flown in, too. "Really? Wow. Well, let everyone else in, I'm sure they want to see I'm alive and no longer speaking in only French."

"Hello, dear," Bhutan said as he stepped into the room.

"Hi Pierre, thank you so much for coming all this way for me. It really means a lot," Ana told him.

He waved it off. "I was in New York anyway, so it wasn't terribly out of my way, and even if I was half-way around the world, I'd have dropped everything. Whether I raised you or not, Ana, you are my daughter. I will always come to your side whenever you have need or want of me." That had me liking him even more. Ana smiled at him and thanked hi m again.

After speaking with everyone about how she's feeling and relaying what the doctor told her about recovery time, the nurse came in and shooed most of us out. "She needs her rest," she told us.

"Christian stays," Ana declared. I felt her weak fingers tighten around mine slightly. She was able to move them a bit more, but couldn't put much strength into her fist. "Everyone else can come back in the morning."

The nurse pursed her lips, but then stepped out when she saw Ana's icy glare. Overall she'd been a great patient, but wasn't about to let the nurse or doctors separate us. We'd been through that before after Hyde-gate. We still weren't on speaking terms with Flynn.

"I'd kill for a cheeseburger," Ana mused. "Can I eat yet? Will you get the nurse that's afraid of me back in here?"

I could only laugh. Leaning down, I kissed her forehead. "Yes of course." Calling the nurse back in, I asked when Ana can have some substantial food, and if it was alright if I procured said food from outside the hospital. She said she'd check with the doctor and be right back.

Meredith popped in then. "She can eat," she told us. Ana gave her a quizzical look. "That nurse will take an hour 'checking with the doctor' during which she'll really be sleeping with an intern in the on-call room, and then she'll come back and say that you can eat. So go ahead and order a pizza or a burger or whatever deliciously unhealthy thing you're certainly craving after having had brain surgery."

"Thanks Mere," I said to my cousin. She smiled and popped out of the room. Having just finished her residency, she's been unavailable for most family functions. In fact, I didn't think she'd even met Ana officially yet.

"Cheeseburger it is then. From the diner?" she asked, her tone icy. I nodded and called Taylor to have him help out. "Thank you, Jason!" she shouted as I was ending the call.

I sat down in the chair near her bed and took her hand in mine again, stroking my fingers across hers. "Am I completely bald? Or is it just a chunk missing?"

"Completely bald," I told her. "The doctor had to get to a lot of areas of your brain so, he had to remove the entire top of your skull."

Ana sat silently for a few minutes, staring off into space. I knew she had a lot to process. "You know… for the first time ever, I'm actually glad that my mother is dead."

"What? You weren't before?" I had thought she was glad of that for a long time.

"No, not at all," she replied. "Not because I wish she was still my mother, hell no, but because I've always wanted her to have been able to see how far Kate, Ethan, and I have come after what she put us through. But now, as I learn the depth of her addiction and the horrible person she became, I'm actually glad she's dead. I'm glad she put herself out of her own misery, and thus kept us from further torture. Though I'm sure she didn't plan on Jack Hyde being the one to find us and subsequently rape me, but still. She ended it; she had the courage to do that.

"I know generally suicide is the coward's way out, and that's how I've always felt about what she did, but now I see. She saw no other way; she was taking herself out of the equation. I always wondered why she didn't just bring me and Ethan to a hospital or a church and give us away. I thought she hated us so much that she wanted to torture us. But now I think she did love us, underneath all the drugs, and just couldn't part with us no matter how awful our lives were. And then when Kate came along, she fully realized what she was doing to herself, and to us. She didn't have the courage to give us away, but she did have the courage to kill herself. As macabre as it sounds, she really did it on purpose and with a lot of thought."

Taylor arrived then with her cheeseburger. "I had them throw in some of the fries and Mrs. Jones made a tiramisu, so there's a slice of that in there, too."

"Bless you, Jason. You're my favorite right now. And so is Mrs. Jones. I fracking love tiramisu." She turned to me then. "Help me sit up?" I found the button to raise the angle of her bed. Taylor set the food out on the bed tray and slid it over her lap. She went to lift her arm to grab the cheeseburger, but her arm wasn't cooperating. I could see her fingers flinching with the effort, but her arm wasn't moving.

"Here, let me help." I pulled the chair up right next to her and picked up the cheeseburger. The look on her face told me she'd rather eat dirt than be fed like this. "Got any better ideas?" I challenged. She pouted, but eventually relented and opened her mouth.

"This is the most ridiculous thing ever," she said after swallowing the first bite. I held up her cup of water with straw and she took a long sip. "I'd better get my motor functions back by the next meal. I've never been more humiliated in my life."

"Ana," I said softly. "It's okay. It's only me here, and I'm more than happy to help you eat. It's not demeaning or debasing in anyway. Right now, you're not able to feed yourself, so you need help. It's okay to need help once in a while."

She took a deep breath. "I know you're right. It's just… It's just that I've never had to rely on others to do simple things like this. Not since I was very, very little. Once I was able to pick up a spoon on my own, I fed myself. And then I fed Ethan. I told you how for a long time I didn't let Miranda do any mothering for me."

"Are you ready for another bite?" I asked, holding a fry that I'd just dipped in ranch dressing, her preferred condiment for fries. She smiled and nodded, opening wide. It took everything in me to not make an airplane noise as I moved the morsel into her mouth. "Have you ever had poutine?"

"Yes! It's delicious! Maybe we should have it at the diner?!"

"What? Um sure, yes I suppose you could. I've never had it, only heard of it. It sounds gross to me."

"Oh Christian, not even close. It's even better than fries with ranch. We'll find somewhere that serves it and have you try it some time soon. It's soooo good, I'm telling you."

I was glad I successfully derailed the conversation from her worrying about not being able to feed herself, nor talking about her mother's suicide. Normal conversation was what she needed, even if she didn't know it. "Oh that reminds me. Mia asked me what I plan to do with all the Esclava salons now that Elena is in prison. I was a silent partner, so they've all defaulted to me as sole owner. We discussed possibly re-branding and remodeling them. But we also agreed that we wanted to include you in to decision making, and you weren't there at the time."

"Was I just asleep or was my skull open in the OR?" she asked.

Well she certainly had a way of getting right to the point, didn't she. "You were in surgery at the time. Whether or not Derek had completely removed your skull cap at the time, I'm not sure."

"Who the hell is Derek?"

"Oh ha. Derek Shepherd. Your surgeon. His wife is my cousin."

Realization dawned on Ana's face. "Oh, is that the woman who came in here and told me I could eat?"

"Yeah, Meredith Grey. Her Dad is my Dad's brother," I answered.

"That makes so much more sense now. I couldn't figure out why she was so friendly with you when she came in here, or why you called her "Mere." You never call people by their first name unless they're family or me."

"You are family," I declared. "Maybe not officially, but in every way that matters. You're my family."

"I love you Christian," she said, smiling. "Or should I say, J'taime." I flinched. "Too soon?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure a couple hours after you had brain surgery to correct your inability to speak English for a while is too soon, Ana." She laughed. "I love you too, by the way." I leaned down and captured her lips for a short but passionate kiss before feeding her the rest of her meal.

By the time dessert was served, she was able to lift her right arm, but only to her elbow. I helped hold up her upper arm while she attempted to fork some of the tiramisu. More of it landed on her pajamas than in her mouth, but she did get to taste a few mouthfuls. "Well, I suppose that's progress. And by far the best tiramisu I've ever had. Gail will have to give me her recipe."

Ana had exherted a lot of energy eating, so she was ready for a nap. I helped clean up her face from the tiramisu and changed her shirt. "I'll have Taylor bring over some more pajamas for you and get these washed tomorrow," I told her. She simply nodded as she leaned back and closed her eyes. "I'll be here when you wake. She nodded again, this time a smile on her face, and within moments, she was fast asleep.

As I watched her sleep, I thought about the last twenty four hours. We'd dodged a bullet with this brain injury. It could have been so much worse. She could have had cancer, or an aneurysm, or had fluid on the brain, or the shrapnel from the growth could have punctured and badly damaged her brain tissue. I hadn't realized how fully terrified I was until I felt the relief when she woke up and was able to speak and recognize everyone. We were out of the woods. Yes there was a long road to recovery, but Ana could do anything on her own. With help, she was damn near invincible.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I decided to make this in the same universe as Grey's Anatomy. Because why not? Apart from Derek and Meredith having this small cameo, I don't plan on having any more crossover stuff here. Also, I have no idea if a growth on the brain like this could ever happen, nor if when ruptured it would affect someone the way it did Ana. I pulled all of that out of thin air. Up next will be more recovery for Ana, and planning the Thanksgiving holiday.


	36. Chapter 36

Sorry for the long wait, folks. Real life and all that, y'know? I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks for sticking with me!

Chapter 36

* * *

Ana PoV

I was finally going home. I lost track of how long I was in the damn hospital, but finally Dr. Shepherd discharged me. He also made me promise to have him and Meredith over for dinner some time. Considering they were technically family, I couldn't say no, even if I wanted to. But as it turned out, I liked them both a lot. Derek was a very cheerful smiley person, while his wife seemed a bit dark and twisty. It was quite the match.

While in the hospital, Christian was there every single day. Sometimes I had to have Taylor damn near bodily remove him to get him to go to work or go home and shower and sleep. We were both probably far too overprotective of each other, but somehow we made it work. If the shoe had been on the other foot, it'd probably have been me visiting him all the time and him trying to kick me out to go home and bathe and run my company.

The wounds on my skull from surgery were nearly healed and I no longer needed bandages. But I was bald. In an effort to keep the paparazzi from seeing my melon, Christian found a wig that matched my natural color and a hat to go over it. That way, no one would be the wiser on the fact that I was hairless for the time being.

Christian was pushing my wheelchair through the halls as I said goodbye to the nursing staff I'd gotten to know in my time there. Outside, the paparazzi were crowding the security guards, attempting to get a picture of me. Once at the door, Christian picked me up out of the chair and walked to the car, stoically ignoring the paps as we'd become used to. They were shouting out questions as to my mental health, and if I had cancer. How long did I have to live, was Christian going to still marry me even though I'm sickly. They were never ending. Thankfully, he was ignoring them as I was. Nothing had been revealed to the press about my hospital stay. They had no idea what I was there for nor what doctors were involved in my care.

Taylor met us at the end of the walkway and we quietly got in the car, never uttering a single word to any of the shutterbugs, nor even changing our facial expressions. Any photos they have are going to be our poker faces, nothing more. Later on the gossip news channel, they had a story about me. The anchor used the word stubborn in regards to my refusal to answer questions. I'm sorry for not wanting my health information or really anything about me spread all over the tabloids. My life is not for others' entertainment. Simple as that.

I knew of plenty of celebrities that stay out of the public eye. There might be an odd photo here and there of them out for a jog or being seen at a coffee shop or restaurant, but never anything scandalous. Christian and I decided that's how we wanted our lives to be. We wanted our public selves to seem so boring that eventually the paps would leave us alone altogether. At least that was the plan. Whether or not we'd get it to come to fruition remained to be seen. Both Christian and I could be known to blow a gasket. Thankfully neither of us have done that while in front of cameras, but we couldn't rule it out as a possibility.

The entire family was at the house once we arrived, even Pierre. I was so touched that he came all the way to see me. It really meant a lot to me and totally cemented my decision to have him in my life. He understood that I had a father, and wasn't trying to take Ray's place, but clearly loved me as much as the children he raised. I was even more excited to visit France for the holidays. I kept the hat on, but discarded the wig as soon as we got away from the shutterbugs. That damn thing was itchy. As it stood, I looked like a cancer patient, so I was glad of the wig's presence for the moment.

My motor skills still needed a lot of work, and I couldn't quite walk unaided. Either someone had to steady me or I had to use a walker. I hadn't reached the walker stage, as someone was always there to assist me. And either here or at my office, that would still be the case. Hell, if I had to hire someone to be my full time walk assistant, I'd do that before I used a walker. Those are for old people.

"Welcome home, sis," Ethan said, walking up to me and kissing my cheek. "Where do you wanna go?" he asked. Christian allowed him to take over helping me. Ethan always felt indebted to me after learning how much I truly did for him as young children when our biological mother was so incapable of doing anything for us.

"I wanna soak in my hot tub," I answered. "Derek said that would be fine, but to just watch it so I don't get light headed. And I can't do it alone. So anyone that wants to join me is more than welcome."

Mia popped up. "You have a hot tub?" Where?"

"On the balcony upstairs. It's off of my bedroom," I answered. "Wanna join me? I bet you can borrow one of Kate's suits." She beamed and followed Kate upstairs. Ethan helped me up the stairs, one at a time. Christian was behind us, making sure if I did lose my balance, I wouldn't fall down the stairs. Once in my room, Christian took over helping me, as Ethan wasn't about to help me get undressed.

"If there was no one else to help you, sis, I'd suck it up and do it. But turns out you have him!" he joked, pointing his thumb at Christian.

"No worries, Ethan. Just remember when I'm old and incontinent, it may be on you to change my diapers," I teased, winking at him.

"Why wouldn't it be on me?" Christian asked, seriously. "Don't you expect that we'll still be together when we're old and incontinent?"

Oh I'd hurt him with my apparently ill-conceived joke. "Of course I want us to grow old together, Christian. I wasn't even thinking about that. I was thinking about how I took care of Ethan when we were little, and once we're old, he can pay me back for all the diapers I changed. It was just a joke."

His brow furrowed in thought. "Grow old together?"

"Old, gray, wrinkly, hunched over, probably with alzheimers or worse, but yes. Together to the end."

He had a small smile playing on his lips throughout the rest of the changing endeavor. Once I was sufficiently suited up, he sat me on the bench in the closet while he changed himself. Even though it had been a few weeks since either of us had had our rigorous workouts, and as a result the six-packs were gone, he still was a mighty fine specimen. Just as he finished dressing in his swim trunks, there was a knock on our door. Mia had finished changing and was ready to join us in the hot tub. Ethan was behind her. Looked like that was it for now, for which I was glad. It was a large hot tub, yes, but more than four people did start to feel a little crowded. Especially when I was still so used to just being in there by myself.

Christian helped me into the tub and I waded over to my preferred corner. Once we all were in, I fired up the jets. "Ana, do you think we could resume movie night this week?" Mia asked shyly.

"I think that's a great idea," I agreed. "Did you have a movie in mind?"

"Yes, I just saw it recently, and thought it was really good. I don't think many people have seen it, which is too bad because there are a lot of great actors in it. Gary Oldman, Christopher Lloyd, James Marsden, Amy Smart, Kurt Russell… I mean the list goes on. It's called Interstate 60."

Hmm, I'd never heard of it. But we could give it a shot. I told Mia that we could plan for a couple days from now to have it. Maybe I'd be on my own two feet unaided by then.

We soaked for a couple hours before I started to feel a bit faint. Christian helped me out of the tub and then into the shower that was a bit cooler than I'd have liked, but he said it was best to have it cool to keep my pulse up. After dressing in lounge clothes, we went downstairs where the rest of the family was still congregated, hanging out and trading stories. My parents were filling Pierre in on what I was like as a child.

"There really was no 'raising' Ana. She was already a grown up in a lot of ways when she came to us. I'll spare you the details, but she delivered her little sister, Kate, right before her biological mother killed herself."

"Yes, I was told she slit her own wrists with a pair of scissors," Pierre added.

"Yes, the very ones I'd just used to cut Kate's umbilical cord," I piped in as I came down the stairs. "Pierre, I don't want you to feel any guilt whatsoever about how I was brought up for the first few years of my life. My mother could have reached out to you, I know it. But she chose not to. She stopped making any rational decisions the moment she chose drugs over herself or her children."

"Not guilt, mon trésor, merely sorrow. Yes I will always wish I'd fought harder to keep your mother in my life, or at least keep in contact with her, and I will regret not doing so for the rest of my days. But when I hear of what she did to you, or allowed others to do, it makes me so sad. And then angry, and then sad again."

Mon trésor, he'd called me. My treasure, it meant. In just a few short months, I'd become so meaningful to him that he called me a treasure. I wondered then, if I should start calling him something other than Pierre. Dad was taken, but maybe I could call him Papa or something like that. I racked my brain for the French word for godfather, or something similar.

"Elliot and Kate, we're going to have another movie night in a couple days," Mia said as she came down the steps. "I just saw this awesome movie called Interstate 60 and I think we should watch it."

"Sounds good," the others agreed. My parents then explained to Pierre the sacredness of Movie Night to Pierre and Christian's parents. To the extreme of calling it a pseudo-religious tradition in our family.

"Yeah, there are rules and everything," Elliot adds. "And breaking the rules is met with serious consequences."

"Rules?" Pierre queried. "What kind of rules?"

The rest looked to me for the list. I cleared my throat and then began. "Rule one: there will be no talking during the film. Rule two: no throwing of popcorn, or any other items at the screen, at each other or anywhere else in the room. For every transgression, you will put five dollars into the pot that will become an additional tip for the pizza delivery kid. Speaking of which, I need to get him that last tip. He kept his mouth shut. Anyway, we all are to treat the theater room like you would a normal movie theater, and use the same modicum of manners you would there, too. Rule three: Don't stand up in the middle of the room, blocking everyone's view. Rule four: silence your phones, pagers, blackberries, tablets, laptops, PDAs, any and every piece of technology. For the duration of the film, radio silence."

"Those seem like good rules," Pierre agrees. "I should adopt a similar policy at home with my other kids. They like to have their phones and things out while we're trying to watch something as a family." I like how he says other kids. I'm considered one of his even though he's only been in my life a short while.

"It's disrespectful," I added. "Not just that they're not giving the movie their full attention, but those bright screens are annoying and distracting to the others watching the film. When I do go to movie theaters, I want to yell at the few people that pull their phones out during the film. If your life is so busy that you can't stow your phone for two hours, then you shouldn't be going to the movie theater. Simple as that."

"Um, Ana, I think you're forgetting something," Ethan said. I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Remember when we went to see Inception? There was that chick in the row in front of us that kept checking her phone throughout the previews. You leaned over to me and said if she does that even once, once the film starts, you'd have her head."

"And did you have her head?" Pierre asked.

I giggled. "No, but I chewed it off. She did look at her phone about ten minutes into the film. I leaned forward and told her, 'Please put your phone away until the movie's over. And do not make me ask you a second time.' Thankfully she listened. I really didn't want to go away for murder just so I could watch a movie in peace."

Christian looked at me bemused. "You'd really have assaulted her for checking her phone during a film? I mean, maybe she was a mom and had kids she needed to check on periodically."

"I'm sure there are a million reasons for people to check their phones, and that's precisely the problem. People have such short attention spans these days; they can't seem to put down their tech for two hours to watch a movie. Plus, any parent that leaves their kids at home either on their own if they're old enough or with a sitter needs to trust those kids or the sitter for a few hours. I mean seriously. Checking up on your kids every ten minutes is ridiculous, and in my mind is a poor reflection on the individual's parenting skills."

"I couldn't agree more, mon trésor," Pierre commented. "Speaking of kids, have you and Christian talked about that at all? Once you're married, which I assume is the plan, are you going to have children?" I knew he meant well, and he hadn't been briefed on all the details of my childhood, but this hurts. I would love to give Christian children, but unless we adopt, I will never be able to. Pierre saw the pain on my face. "I see I've struck a nerve as it were. I am sorry."

I gave him a brief smile. "It's okay, Pierre. You can't have known. I um… I can't have children. As a result of physical trauma when I was very young, I had to have my uterus completely removed. Of course, Christian and I could adopt, but we haven't really talked about that at any length. I'm not entirely sure I want children anyway."

Feeling Christian's hand on the small of my back, I knew that was his signal that he wanted to discuss this with me in private. We hadn't really had that chat at all in the time we'd been together. Maybe it was time to discuss the idea. I couldn't imagine he'd be opposed to adoption given that he himself was adopted. If anyone understood the value of being taken in by a loving family after enduring a torturous childhood, it was the two of us.

The plans for Thanksgiving continued, and the day was just around the corner. We had just over a week to get everything ready. I'd communicated with my farmer, Red, and she would happily provide a turkey for our festivities. There was nothing like a freshly harvested turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. It cooked a lot faster, too, I'd learned in years past.

Before Thanksgiving, though, we had movie night planned. Pierre and all the other parents had decided to join us, and were re-briefed on the rules. Everyone placed their phones in silent mode and set them in the dish I designated. We ordered a couple extra pizzas and other goodies for our meal. Thankfully, the same delivery driver as before was on shift, so I requested that he deliver the food. I would be able to give him the extra tip from last time, and of course a large tip for tonight.

When he arrived at the door, he offered me a sympathetic smile. "I heard about your surgery," he said. "My sister is obsessed with celebrity gossip and she was going on about it for days. I don't know the real details of course, as you can only trust the tabloids so far, but it seemed pretty serious. I'm glad you're alright."

"Thanks, kid. Hey what's your name anyway?" I asked.

"Tony," he responded.

I smiled. "Well, Tony, you're awesome. Here's an additional tip from last time, since you kept your promise and didn't tell anyone where I live." I handed him the money collected from the previous movie night. "And here's for tonight. I hope you can continue to be our delivery man, and I'd be happy to work our movie nights around your work schedule, if you like."

"Considering the tips you give, you just let me know when you're gonna have one and I'll make sure I clock in, even if it's just to deliver to you guys and then go home. Really, it makes my night." He wrote his personal cell number on one of the pizza boxes.

"That's awesome. Thanks, Tony. You're the best." He smiled again and turned to leave. With Ethan and Christian's assistance, we carried the pizzas and other items into the theatre room and Mia helped to set everything up buffet style. Once everyone had their plates and drinks we started the movie, with a reiteration of the importance of the rules.

Interstate 60 was a very interesting and thought-provoking movie. I never would have picked it from a list of movies, but after watching it, it quickly became one of my favorite movies. James Marsden played a character named Neil who after making a wish for "an answer to my life" on his 22nd birthday embarked on a road-trip after making a deal to deliver a package to a town that was off of a highway that didn't exist. At his birthday celebration, a waiter overheard his wish and happened to be a wish-granting being named O.W. Grant, played by the great Gary Oldman.

During his trip, he encountered interesting folks, including a woman whose son ran away to a town where the legal age is 13, a nightly rave, and had legal drugs for sale. Kurt Russell had a cameo as the police chief in this small town. The police chief described that his town had previously had a real big drug problem. They increased punishment for selling, punishment for losing, all the way up to public humiliation. But some people just wanted to get high. So they found a drug that was highly addictive but totally legal. They made it very affordable and only make people work in the town to get it. There were kids cleaning up the roads, working as janitorial staff, and even cleaning houses. They lived in tent cities around the town and at night, there was a rave where they all went to party until dawn. That scene really struck a nerve with both me and Christian, having dealt with addiction with our mothers. However the drug had a side effect that sublimated the sex drive. There had been no rape in that town for over a year as a result.

The main character couldn't quite handle the town and ended up leaving as quickly as he arrived. Neil also encountered an eccentric guy that had terminal lung cancer and wouldn't tolerate lying. To the extreme that if someone lied to him and didn't come clean about it, he'd threaten to blow them and everyone up via a large amount of dynamite that he had strapped to his torso.

The rest of the movie was just as thought-provoking and left me with many questions about life in general. One of the quotes that stayed with me was, "Every event is inevitable; if it wasn't it wouldn't happen." We discussed some of the points of the movie together and each formed our own reviews. The bottom line was that we all liked the film a lot. I thanked Mia for suggesting it.

"This was so much fun," Pierre enthused. "I wish I could be here for the next movie night, but I do have to get back home soon."

"Totally understandable," I answered. "Thank you so much for coming when I was in the hospital and sticking around for a while. It really means a lot to me. I can't wait to come to France for the Holidays."

"Do you think you'll be up to travel by then?" he asked, hopeful.

I nodded. "Absolutely. I don't care what the doc says, I'll be there."

The next day, Pierre made his way home. I saw him off from the top of the stairs at my house. Christian and Ethan were still asleep and I was not about to ask anyone else to carry my down the stairs. I knew they all would in a heartbeat, but it was my own pride getting in the way. Pierre and I promised to keep in touch with each other over the coming weeks and I assured him Christian and I would definitely be in Paris for Christmas. "Even if Christian has to carry me onto the plane. I wouldn't miss it," I'd said.

In true French tradition, we kissed each other's cheeks and said our farewells. Mrs. Jones had passed by the stairwell just as he left and saw me standing there. "Miss Steele! Would you like some help coming down the stairs?"

"Um, sure," I replied, bashfully. "I'd like to try it on my own, but I know better than to at least not have someone standing in front of me, should I fall forwards." She nodded and came up all but two steps so she could guide me down. I gripped the banister with one hand and held my walking stick with the other. I'd moved on from the crutches and I'd be damned before I used that stupid walker. A fancy walking stick, however, I could tolerate. At least for now.

Finally, I made it to the bottom of the stairs, thankfully without slipping once. Mrs. Jones was more than patient with me; she encouraged me when I got tired and needed to rest a moment a few times. By the time I got to the bottom, I was so exhausted, I wanted to go back to bed. But that required climbing back up the stairs. I sat down on the bottom step to catch my breath. "I'll get you a glass of water," Gail said as she scampered off towards the kitchen.

Maria entered the room then and saw me panting. "Ana, what happened? Did you fall down the stairs? What are you doing up and about on your own?"

She had a knack for scolding me like a parent even though I was her boss. "I didn't come down by myself. Gail helped me," I answered, pointing in the direction where Gail had gone. "But either way, it's tiring work when your muscles don't remember how to do stuff and you have to re-teach them."

Gail returned with a glass of water and I promptly drained it. She and Maria helped me into the living room where I was ordered to stay off my feet and allow them to wait on me hand and foot. "You know I don't like to be like that," I complained.

"You'll do as you're told," Maria scolded as she draped a throw blanket over my legs that she'd propped up onto an ottoman. A while later, Gail appeared with a small plate of food for breakfast and a cup of tea. Twining's English Breakfast, with the bag sitting out on the saucer. When on earth did she learn how I take my tea? I didn't remember ever even asking her to make it.

I turned on some music and set about relaxing until everyone else in the house was up. It was still early. But before too long, I heard Christian's borderline panicked voice calling out to me. "I'll go let him know where you are," Gail assured me as I tried to get up from the sofa. "You just rest there." I nestled back into the cushy pillows and did just that. I hated to admit it, but I was very tired just from that stupid trek down the stairs.

Dr. Shepherd had said there was minimal damage to my brain and I felt like my mental capacities were just fine. It was my motor skills that suffered the most, which he also warned me of. Simple things like brushing my hair, my teeth, or walking down the stairs had become damn near impossible. This morning I'd settled on simply pulling my hair into a clip and rinsing with mouthwash when Pierre was preparing to leave.

"Ana, why didn't you wake me?" Christian complained. "I would have helped you down the stairs."

I shook my head. "It was early, you were dead to the world, and Pierre was leaving. I saw him off and then Gail helped me down here. And since then, between her and Maria, I'm like a new recruit to the army going through basic training with the way they've been drill-sergeanting me around." Gail tutted at me as she heard me, but then smiled on her way out of the room. Yes I was exaggerating, but I disliked being an invalid.

Christian sat down beside me and snagged a piece of bacon off my plate. I'd not touched it yet as I was busy enjoying my tea. "Ana, do you remember at the hospital after you woke up, I asked for your input on what to do with Elena's salons?" I nodded. "Well, you never really answered me, so I'm just curious as to how you feel. Do you want me to sell them? I can, but it would put a lot of talented stylists and massage therapists out of work."

I pursed my lips in thought. "I think it's adorable the way your nose twitches when you're thinking," he said as his finger brushed my nose. "You're like my little bunny."

"Ugh, do not ever call me bunny or any related name," I replied with a grimace. "As much as I'd like to see everything pertaining to that scorpion woman burned to ash, I can't in good conscience put those workers out like that. I say we re-brand. Remodel the locations or even move them if need be. Offer the stylists paid leave while under construction, and then invite them all back. Then it's up to them if they want to stay or go."

"I like that idea," he agreed. "It's more or less what the others and I had discussed. And like I said, we all didn't want to further the decision making until we had your input. What about a name for the salons?"

"Gimme some time on that," I answered. "I only want it to be as far from 'esclava' as possible. Where did she come up with that name in the first place? Does she know it means 'slave' in Spanish?"

"I honestly don't know, and I didn't know about the word's translation, either," he admitted. "I confess that when it came to Elena, I had blinders on for a long time. For so long, I felt she had helped me and that I was therefore indebted to her. When she asked for money to help open the salons, I wrote the checks without batting an eye."

I took a moment to let that absorb. Ever since he told me who exactly she was to him, my hatred for her skyrocketed. I never saw it from his perspective, but then I could see how he had put her on this pedestal. He already saw himself as worthless, and here came this woman that was able to manifest that worthlessness into physical abuse and she called it something else.

After discussing a bit more about what to do with the salons, it was time for a lunch break. Christian helped me into the dining room where Gail had made sandwiches and soup. Ethan and Kate appeared then, having slept the morning away and joined us. We updated them on the decisions for the salons and talked about more with Gail about her opening up a coffee shop with our assistance.

Thanksgiving plans had been altered quite a bit. In lieu of a family celebration, were going to host a Thanksgiving meal at Mammaw's for the homeless of Seattle. To the extreme that we even hired some buses to help pick up people around the city so they could come and have a hot meal. Grace had suggested opening up the diner to the homeless one night a month way back when we were in the planning phase, and finally that wonderful idea was coming to fruition. As we publicized our plans, donors from all around the city offered to help fund the meal, thus making it even better for those we would help.

One group of ladies said they would work until their fingers bled knitting hats and scarves to hand out to those that came. Another charity offered blankets and warm clothing. Soon the entire Thanksgiving plans became a day of simply giving.

* * *

Up next will be the Thanksgiving day of Giving and then the holidays in France.


	37. Chapter 37

It was brought to my attention that I haven't updated this story in over 10 months. Holy cows, you guys I'm so sorry. I really don't know where the time goes!

I have a new job now that offers me quite a bit of free time in the mornings, so I have more time to work on my stories and original works. I hope that means I'll be able to stick to a more regular updating schedule, but as usual, I cannot make any promises. I also have an art sale coming up next week, and a bunch of assignments due for Grad School. That said, I'll do my best, but it may be the New Year before you see another update. Sorry about that. Real life is such a heartless bitch. Without further ado, here's an update!

* * *

Chapter 37

* * *

Christian PoV

Despite recovering from brain surgery, Ana was diving into these Thanksgiving plans had first. She'd brought the Seattle community together to create this giving back to the homeless meal. I thought I had pursued plenty of philanthropic projects, but she was leaving me in the dust.

On the day of the event, people were lining up down the block. A few of the coffee shops in Seattle donated hot drinks to those in line, distributing cups of hot cocoa and cider to the eager people. There were some clothing companies donating jackets, the knitting group was handing out their handmade scarves and hats. Another crafty group made a bunch of fleece blankets and was passing them out. These people would to leave here with full stomachs and some items to help keep them warm throughout the winter.

Once the doors open, people filed inside, in a surprisingly orderly fashion. Ana was busy taking down information from each of the homeless people, where they were staying, whether or not they had a job, and so forth. She clearly wanted to continue helping them.

"I want housing for all of them," she told me once she made her rounds. "We need to figure something out. Convert an old warehouse district or something into apartments. The space is here in Seattle, it's not like we're too many people here. I'll talk to Elliot about this, I think." She went to find my brother, but my hand on her arm stopped her.

"Ana, Ana, slow down. This dinner is a huge success, and I can just see how thankful all these people are for a hot meal. You're doing great, baby."

She shook her head. "It's not enough. When their bellies are full, where are they going? Back on the streets. They're getting nice and toasty warm in here, and have received some winter supplies, but that doesn't guarantee a safe warm place to sleep, or that they're going to get fed tomorrow. The money is available, clearly. Look how many businesses came out to give back. I have millions I could invest in this. So do you if you feel so inclined. So do your parents and mine."

"So you want to start a foundation, is what you're saying," I summarized. "Steele Home foundation?"

"Something not so cold sounding. Your name is the same way. When I think of Steele and Grey, I don't think of warm, happy things," she replied. "No offense. It's just our surnames, while lending themselves to plenty of plays on words that can be useful, do not give warm imagery. I think of gray skies, rain, and cold metal when I think of our names. Those images don't jive well with creating a foundation that is supposed to help homeless people."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Having a 'cold' last name certainly added to my persona with my former… er, relationships."

She smiled. "Indeed." She went off to greet more people as they arrived and say goodbye to those that finished. Many didn't want to leave, taking second and third helpings of the meal, once they were told that was alright. I understood there were a few soup kitchens that only allowed one helping per person.

Taking Ana's cue, I began to move around the room as well and interact with the people. One group was having a conversation about how they wound up homeless. Thankfully, I heard nothing about any of them having lost a job at Grey Enterprises or any of its subsidiaries. I liked to think I provided generous severance packages that would allow an individual ample time to seek employment elsewhere before needing the money too badly.

One man said he had been in and out of prison. "It's hard to get a job if you're a convict," he said. "You get out of the big house only to get sent back in within weeks or even days. It's like… no one will hire you because you have a record, so you can't get money, so then you gotta resort to your old ways to get by. Next time I go in, it'll probably be for life. At least I'll get a bed, a blanket, and three squares a day."

That got me thinking. I'd heard stories of some convicts deliberately committing crimes so they would go back to prison just to have a roof over their heads and consistent meals. If Ana was going to start a foundation to help the homeless, I was going to start one to help convicted felons find work and housing once they're out on their own. If they're committing crimes out of necessity, something is seriously wrong with the system.

I collected a few more stories and shake a few more hands before resuming my post in the corner of the room. Soon, Ana joined me and we traded some of the tragic tales we'd heard. "I think I want to start a foundation, too," I told her. "Something that helps convicted felons get jobs. I heard a few tales of how hard it is to find work once you're out, especially if you were in their for a fairly serious crime.

"I think that a person's ability to work, and work hard should have nothing to do with their criminal past. I mean, would I hire a bank robber to work at a bank? Probably not. But that doesn't mean he or she couldn't work somewhere else."

Ana smiled, her eyes glimmering. "That's a wonderful idea, Christian. I think you'll do great at that. I'll help in anyway I can. But about hiring a bank robber to work in a bank… remember Frank Abagnale?

"Who?"

"He was a guy back in the sixties that forged over 2 million dollars worth of checks. He faked payroll checks from PanAm airlines and cashed them at banks all over the east coast. Now he works for banks and other corporate offices helping them ensure their documents and checks are unforgeable. So that's a scenario of hiring the guy that robbed you to make sure you don't get robbed again. Now I'm not saying that every convicted bank robber should have a job like that, but I'd bet there's some guru out there… some person that is really really good at robbing banks that could help a bank become un-robbable."

She made a fair point. Perhaps there could be a rehabilitation program that helped convicts hone their skills that they had previously used to commit crimes to help them turn them into a legitimate job.

We allowed the event to go late into the night to accommodate as many people as we could. By the end, all the food had been eaten and all the donations had been distributed. Ana ended up getting general location information for more than two hundred people, hoping to have housing for them within a month or two. She didn't announce this, but simply told everyone she'd like to visit them from time to time. A couple liked to keep to themselves and did not disclose much information to her, but with her personality, she was well-liked by nearly everyone, and many of them shared their stories with her.

The next day, Ana stayed in her office most of the day pulling permits and finding out what warehouse areas were available for development. If she had her way, and she probably would, she'd have the construction well under way before the New Year, and have the people moving in by Valentine's Day. She called the mayor's office, and even the state's representatives for Congress and House.

By the end of the day, she had purchased a block of abandoned and/or condemned buildings and was communicating with Elliott and her own contractors about getting construction started as soon as possible. She had donations from many other businesses in the Pacific Northwest, myself included, and was well on her way to getting this project going.

For the next few weeks, I hardly saw her. We'd eat breakfast together every morning, sleep together every night, but the hours in between were anyone's guess. She'd occasionally surprise me at work for a little afternoon delight, but then was out the door moments afterwards and back in her office, or at Mammaw's, working with Gail on her coffee shop plans, or working at the block itself, taking tours, and conversing with inspectors to see what needed to be repaired, torn down, or renovated.

She wanted as many apartments as she could fit, to help out as many of the ten thousand homeless people in Seattle King County as possible. Not everyone came to the dinner of course, but many did, and they knew of others. Ana hoped that word would spread through the communities that someone was finally going to do something to help. "I'd like to hire some of them to help with the construction, too," she told me one morning as we were chatting over a plate of pancakes she'd just made. "Let them feel like they're part of something, and that it's not a hand out. I know a lot of them won't want to feel pitied or like they're charity cases. Plus, having a home "

"That's a great idea, baby. Maybe you can set up a job fair right there in the community. Or if they want help getting job offers from other places, we could set up a salon day. Help them get haircuts and professional attire, and so forth. Speaking of salons, we have that project to get undergoing, too."

"Oh yeah, the salons. I got so caught up in the giving-giving day, I forgot all about it. Have you thought about playing around with people's names to name the chain?"

"Well, the two most important people in my life are you and Grace," I told her. "I already named my boat after her, so I could name the salons after you." Her cheeks started burning a delicious rosy shade. "Hey, how about something with your middle name, Rose?"

She smiled. "I like that. That way it's not as obvious as 'Anastasia's Salon,' but still has nods to me, right?"

I nodded. "Exactly. How about Blue Rose? Since your eyes are that incredible shade of blue that see into my very soul." She blushed again. "Yes, Blue Rose Salons. I'm gonna start the project right now."

And then we dedicated at least a half hour a day to working with each other on the salon project. Mia joined us as often as she could. I worried, though, that Ana was spreading herself too thin. She seemed to take it in stride, but as the days progressed, I noticed bags under her eyes. She was sleeping every night, I saw to that, but she was doing too much every day. And the exhaustion was beginning to build up.

Thankfully, we had our Paris trip coming up, and no matter what, she was going to put all of these projects on hold until we returned. It was a battle that I was going to pick, if she tried to resist me. Even if I had to put all her devices on lock and key and make sure Pierre password protected every screen in his home, and spoke with every internet cafe in all of Europe to make sure she left it alone, and actually had a vacation for once in her life. Lately she'd been practically married to her smartphone and I was not about to let it take over our trip, either.

By the time we were leaving for the airport, she had left instructions for her second in command, her assistant, and her siblings. Between the four of them and my sister, they should be able to continue the progress of all her projects. Minus the week they're all going to take off for the Holidays. As much as she wanted to make everyone work around the clock, even Ana knew that it wasn't fair to deprive them of their earned holiday time off.

She had tried to get out of the trip altogether with the argument that the homeless wouldn't be able to go to France, or celebrate the holidays like everyone else. She wanted so badly to help these people but eventually she realized that Rome wasn't built in a day and neither would her apartment complex be. "I'd bet if you asked any one of the people you're going to help, they all would say they'd rather you spend time with your family for the holidays than perseverate on their housing project."

With her lips pursed in frustration, she relented and we finally got her to agree to the trip. It also took a skype call from her new sister to fully convince her and allay some of the guilt she was feeling. On our departure date, we boarded my private plane and strapped in for the long flight to Paris. We had to stop off in New York to refuel but wouldn't have to layover long.

While we waited for the refueling, Ana and I retired to the plane's bedroom and re-discovered each other. I slowly peeled her out of her plum dress and laid her down on the bed. She undid the buttons of my shirt and pushed the sleeves down my arms. But she forgot to undo the cufflinks, so I was trussed up behind my back… and she liked it. "Oh Mister Grey, the shoe on the other foot." Deftly, she wrapped her legs around me and flipped us over, my hands trapped underneath me. "I think I like this. Are you okay with it?"

"Oh yes. Baby. Very much so." She lowered her lips to mine and kissed me long and hard. With my hands pinned underneath me, I couldn't touch her. The torture was exquisite. She trailed featherlight kisses down my neck and my chest. All my old wounds healed, adoring every touch of her on my body. Soon, she'd worked her way to my pants, unbuttoning them with her teeth, and pulling down the zipper. Dear god that was sexy.

I lifted my hips slightly so she could pull my pants down, and she did, along with my boxer-briefs, my erection springing free. She gripped me firmly in her hand and began moving up and down. I was on sensory overload, still feeling her kisses across my torso and not being able to touch her. "It won't be long baby, I'm so worked up," I told her.

She smiled and simply pushed aside her thong and lowered herself onto my awaiting member. The groan and look of pure bliss on her face as she was fully seated on me nearly sent me over, but I was able to keep from exploding by some miracle. She began moving up and down painfully slowly, deliberately torturing me, for as long as possible. "Baby, please," I begged. She hadn't come yet, and neither had I, but I could feel that we were both on the edge, just balancing, and she had all the power to push us over, and she wouldn't do it. I wanted nothing more than to reach up and free one of her beautiful breasts from their lacy prison, but I was utterly helpless.

"We still have a little time," she replied. "I want to savor this." Her fingernails lightly scratched my chest, making me shiver. I couldn't sit up with my hands tied behind me, and I wanted nothing more than to bite her neck. She saw me chomping my teeth together and leaned down, offering me the creamy expanse of her neck. "Go ahead and bite. Just try not to leave a mark. You can do that elsewhere." I sunk my teeth into her flesh, hearing her yell in pleasure. I then peppered her neck with kisses while she continued to slowly ride me.

I could hear the pilots boarding, getting ready to announce our departure. "I'm begging you, Ana. Please!" She smiled and finally relented, speeding up her rhythm and the force of her movements. It didn't take long, and we were both losing ourselves to each other. My fists clenched behind my back as I came, long spurts shooting inside her. Her fingers dug into my chest as she found her release, long moans escaping her mouth.

"Wow," she breathed as we both came down. "Mister Grey, we should tie you up more often."

I laughed. "Don't hold your breath on that one, Ms. Steele. But it was fantastic. Now help me out of this shirt, will you? I'm sure it's too wrinkled to put back on, anyway." She climbed off of me, situated her lingerie and helped me out of my shirt. Sure enough it was wrinkled beyond use, so I fetched a clean shirt from the closet I kept on board.

"No wonder you hardly had to pack. You have a walk in closet on the gorram plane." She peered into it and saw there were a few garments for her as well. "Wait a minute, what's this?"

"When I moved in with you, I had some of the garments I bought for you moved here. In case you ever traveled with me anywhere. You wouldn't have to pack much. I know this trip there were certain things you wanted to bring, and gifts for people, so I didn't say anything."

She kissed me again. "That was very thoughtful of you. Thanks." She stepped into her dress and turned her back to me so I could do up the zip. The Captain announced that we would be taking off soon and that Ana and I needed to be buckled in for takeoff. We headed towards the seating area and settled in for the time until we could go back to bed and perhaps attempt to get some sleep before our trip.

A while later, it was announced that we could move around freely. Ana stopped at the kitchenette and prepared a small meal that we would eat before napping. "I wore myself out earlier," she said as we climbed into the bed. "I think I might actually get some sleep. It'd be the first time ever on a plane, methinks. I suppose our tryst earlier doesn't count as an induction to the mile high club since we were grounded, huh?"

"I think you're right, but we have a long flight ahead of us. And this bedroom is soundproofed. The flight crew would be none the wiser." I leaned over and pressed a kiss against the spot where I'd bitten her before. She purred. I kissed her again, and she groaned.

I pulled away, deciding to make her wait for it. Let her be the one tortured for once. We finished the food and settled in to try and get a few hours' sleep. She curled up into me and I wrapped my arm around her waist. Soon we both drifted off to dreamland as the plane quietly hummed, helping us fall asleep.

Ana and I became star members of the mile high club during our seven hour flight. After a nice shower, we retreated to the main cabin to settle in and watch a movie for the remaining time on the flight. "Are you excited to meet the rest of your family in person?" I asked her.

She nodded. "Talking with them on the phone and on skype has been great but I really want to see them face to face. Hug my siblings, meet everyone officially. It's the big family I never knew I wanted, and now I need it."

When we landed, a car was waiting to take us to the Bhutan home. Pierre appeared to be quite the name in France, as the driver was fawning over us. Then again, maybe it was Ana. She has such an effect on the people around her, and she seems totally oblivious to it.

Within an hour, we were arriving at a colossal estate, presumably the Bhutan home. Ana and I had seen some photos of it, but none of them did the place any justice. Buckingham Palace was a close comparison, and even that may be smaller than this place. The whole clan was waiting in the entrance for us, huge smiles on their face. A couple members of Bhutan's staff rushed to the doors of the car to let us out and to remove our luggage from the rear.

Pierre was the first to embrace Ana, who was then passed off to her sister, Antoinette. She hugged Ana so tight I thought she truly might burst. Then was Audra, who was also over the moon about meeting Ana. Andres appeared bored, but I could tell he was very happy. Yes, he was even more outnumbered than before, with yet another sister, but he secretly liked it, I think.

I shook hand with Pierre and his wife. Antoinette gave me a warm hug, but not nearly as big as the one she gave Ana. Andres shook my hand and asked me about my brother, as he and Ethan had talked with him a bit about architecture over the past weeks. Audra blushed as she shook my hand, and it deepened even more when I kissed her cheek in greeting. Apparently, she had a little crush. She did look a bit like a mini Ana, only with lighter and much curlier hair. But the blue eyes were spot on.

I wondered if Pierre's parents were going to be here and what they made of this situation. He hadn't mentioned them other than saying that Ana had his mother's eyes. I didn't even know if they were alive or not.

"Please do come in," Pierre's wife said in French. She stopped to ensure we both understood her and we, in unison, told her that we both spoke French.

"In fact, I have a funny story about me speaking French," Ana said as we walked through the entryway. She stopped and turned to me. "Too soon?"

I laughed. "No, Baby, I think we're okay with it now being a somewhat funny memory."

As we were led through the house, Pierre and his wife, Susanne told stories about the rooms, and the items found therein. Ana and I both had a good eye for art and architecture, so we oohed and ahhed and complimented them at the right moments. We were shown our room and offered some time to get unpacked and rest.

Ana set to moving all her clothes into the closet, organizing them as she went. I sat on the bed and simply watched her work. She moved on to my luggage after asking if I minded if she unpacked my things. "Feel free to put your paws all over my clothing, Angel."

She blushed and smiled, but kept silent and continued organizing. Eventually, she finished and joined me on the bed. Despite getting a bit of sleep on the plane, we were experiencing a bout of jetlag and felt thankful for the much needed nap. Susanne had told us when dinner would be ready and that we should dress for it. "Pierre's parents will be here," she'd said, which also answered my question about their existence. "They don't know anything about Anastasia yet, so we're trying to ease them into it."

That was news too. Ana asked Susanne why they were keeping her a secret. "Well, they were never fond of your birth mother. To them, she stole their son's innocence and whatnot. Pierre hardly speaks to them, as it is. But he thinks they deserve to at least know of you. I'll put it to you like this. They're lovely people, but it's wonderful that we can send them home at the end of the night."

"Understandable," Ana agreed. But I could tell that she was a bit bothered by the fact that Pierre's parents were totally in the dark. I don't think she liked the idea that they may not like her simply because they didn't approve her biological mother. She's not the type of person to judge another based on their biology. I was a shining example. My biological father was her rapist. All that plus her experience with grandparents thus far hasn't always been positive. Yes, she had her Mammaw, but then there was Elena.

After we lounged in our room for a bit, we showered, dressed, and made the trek to the common area. And it was a trek. Our room was in the east wing, meaning, we had a ways to walk before reaching anyone else. We liked that we would have such privacy, especially when trying to get to know these people. It's always good to have an escape, when necessary. Ana was wearing a black dress with a lace back. It covered her scars, but still showed the delectable tone of her creamy skin. She adorned it with a set of jewelry I had procured for her from Carolyn. "This place reminds me of the castle from Beauty and the Beast," Ana comments as we're walking down the hallway. "I'm half expecting some of the furniture to start talking."

We both stared a an upholstered bench for probably too long as we walked by, waiting for it to start barking at us. I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed when it didn't. Memories of a young me watching that movie with Elliot and a baby Mia came to mind. "Maybe a candlestick will start singing 'Be our Guest,'" I joked. Ana laughed and tucked her arm in the crook of my elbow.

As we reached the common area, Pierre, Susanne, Antoinette, Andres and Audra were all already seated, waiting for us. I didn't spot anyone else in the room, so it appeared Pierre's parents had yet to arrive. "They're running late as usual," Andres told us as we sat down.

We were offered wine, which I accepted but Ana declined. "Ana, you don't like wine?" Pierre asked.

"It's not a matter of not liking it, Pierre. I don't drink alcohol. At all," she replied.

"Are you in a program or something?" Antoinette asked, being her usual blunt self, as I'd heard Ana describe.

Ana laughed. "No. I'm not in any program. I don't have a drinking problem. Can't have a problem with something you don't do. I just don't partake. It's a personal choice." Antoinette gaped at her as if she weren't human. "I know it seems surprising, but if you experienced what I had, when you were young, I'd imagine you'd have a similar outlook."

"How do you mean," asked Pierre.

Ana took a deep breath. I knew what she was about to tell him. "Well, Pierre, to be perfectly honest, because of my mother. My biological mother."

He uncrossed his legs. His formerly relaxed position now a bit tense. "Oh? What about her?"

"Let me preface this information with the fact that I have an eidetic memory. I remember every single thing that has happened in my life, even the trivial things. Now, that said, every moment with my biological mother and her 'friends' has been burned into my brain like a tattoo. Many adults may be happy about that idea, able to relive their childhoods whenever they like. Mine, however, was a nightmare. Hell on earth."

Pierre's expression changed again, this time to shock. "What do you mean? I mean, I knew about Rebecca's substance abuse I'd read about it on the news when I learned of you. But what happened to you?"

"I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that my formative years were literal torture. I have the scars to remind me, even if I could forget." She pushed the sleeves on her dress up and showed the scars on her wrists. "My ankles match, and my back is covered in scars."

"Scars from what?" Antoinette asked, getting closer to get a better look.

"I really don't think you want the details," Ana replied, her eyes flashing to Audra momentarily. At twelve years old, her mind may have been a bit too innocent to know all the horrors Ana endured, some that mirrored my own, and some that were worse. So much worse.

Susanne had Audra leave the room, much to her dismay, and gestured for Ana to continue. "More often than not, I was neglected. Rebecca was a prostitute, and when she had her men come over, she'd tie me up in my crib. For hours at a time. She did this once I was big enough to climb out of it on my own. She'd finish, get her money or drugs, get high, and then forget about me in there. I rubbed my wrists and ankles raw multiple times trying to get out, which is why I have lasting scars.

"On the rare day that she did remember I existed, I was never able to do anything right. I cried too much, or didn't take care of "baby brother" well enough, or my empty stomach was growling too loudly. In those moments, she beat me. She'd make me hold onto a door frame while she whipped me with whatever implement she could find. A wet towel, a belt, the cord from the vacuum. Anything. And if she was too blitzed to do it herself, she'd have one of the men do it for her."

"You couldn't walk around in that dingy apartment without hitting a bottle or a beer can with your feet. The sound of bottles clinking together as someone moved, hearing it get louder as I knew they were nearing my room used to fill me with fear. And ever since, I can't look at alcohol in a positive light. I certainly do not judge anyone that drinks. To each their own."

"Oh Ana," Pierre cried. "My sweet Ana. I am so sorry. I will never forgive myself for not working harder to find Rebecca. I could have saved you from all of that pain." He opened his arms to her and she willingly stepped into them, letting him hold her close. She was still wary around men, but it seemed as though Pierre had made it onto the acceptable list.

Ana gave him a sad smile as she pulled away. "I admit, I thought those same things when I first learned about you. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"What?!" I piped in. "Why?!"

"Because it led me to you," she answered, her eyes twinkling at me. SHe sat down next to me and took my hands in hers, her thumb caressing the promise ring on my finger. "If Pierre had found Rebecca, or never left to begin with, he would have been around for my birth. Perhaps he and Rebecca would still be together today. Maybe not. Maybe he would have found a way to get custody of me and I could have been raised here in France. Either way, I would not have endured the abuse and neglect that I did. My childhood would not have been so similar to yours. And I wouldn't have understood you. I wouldn't have been able to empathize with you. And despite how much I believe we are meant to be, that would have been a huge obstacle between us, and I'm not entirely sure we'd have overcome it. Would I have been happy? Yeah, probably. You'd have been in your tower, shutting out the world, carrying on with your former activities, having no idea that I existed. And I wouldn't have had a clue about you. I just wouldn't want to live in that world. If I had the chance to go back and take away the pain from then, but lose you? No. not for a second."

I couldn't believe that she'd rather live the horrible childhood she had instead of being raised in this palatial home in France by a father that would clearly have loved her more than air. All for me? I know she said I need to get over my self-hatred, but this is a bit beyond. I sit back, reeling at the words she just said. "I love you," was the only thing I could think to say.

"I know," she replied, winking. "I love you, too."

* * *

A/N: sorry again for the hella long hiatus, folks. Up next will be meeting the grandparents!

check out pinterest dot com slash craftyrivers slash fanfiction slash

for some pics of what I found for Ana's and Christian's dinner outfits, and Pierre's palatial home.


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